Collateral Damage
by Nelowl
Summary: Experimenting with the Chair, both Rodney and Carson are caught in an explosion. Rodney is left in a critical condition, Carson, hurt, and the Chair, badly damaged. An investigation suggests Carson caused the accident, but did he want to kill Rodney?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:Collateral Damage**

**Rating:K +**

**Warnings: None**

**Summary:** Experimenting with the Chair, both Rodney and Carson are caught in an explosion. Rodney is left in a critical condition, Carson is hurt, and the Chair is badly damaged. An investigation suggests Carson caused the accident, and soon he is fighting not only to save his friend's life, but to clear his name, and save his career. Then John makes a discovery that shocks them all!

**Disclaimers: **I don't own any of the _Stargate Atlantis_ characters, but I hope I've given them a fair representation in this story.

**Characters: **All especially John & Rodney, Carson-centric.

**Spoilers:** As yet, I'm not sure if there will be any references to actual episodes. If there are, I'll warn you in advance.

_**I'd like to thank TJ who is once again acting as beta for this.**_

oOoOoOo

Carson had to concentrate hard to read Major Lorne notes from an earlier examination. The solider had returned through the Stargate with a very interesting rash. Well Carson thought it was very interesting but Lorne wasn't quite so enamoured of it. The patient in question perched on the edge of an infirmary bed, slyly trying to scratch through the padding of sterile dressings he'd been swathed in, without drawing attention to himself.

"Stop it!" Carson admonished absentmindedly and without looking up, Lorne glowered at him.

"Can't you give me something to stop the itch, Doc?"

"Aye," Carson responded. "But I need to find out what caused the itch in the first place. If I give you the wrong thing son, it might make it worse."

"Now that's a cheerful thought," Lorne responded, fighting a losing battle from giving into the urge to scratch his own skin off.

Carson smiled sympathetically over at the major and turned back to his notes.

"Carson!" Rodney's voice sounded over the comm-link. For a moment the Scot considered ignoring his friend's voice, but Rodney had other ideas.

"Carson," his voice was even more insistent this time. "I need you in the Chair Room now, so put down whatever voodoo text book you're studying and get your rear-end over here."

"Rodney," Carson said, trying to keep his tone even. "I'm dealing with a patient just now. I'll help you when I'm free."

"And I know you Carson," Rodney replied instantly. "You're never free. You always have someone who needs your attention, notes to write or some medical journal you need to read."

"Aye, that's true," Carson said, with a wink at Lorne, distracting the soldier from his itch for the moment as he enjoyed the exchange. "But we can't all lead the life of leisure that you physicists enjoy."

The expected explosion could probably be heard through the walls without the aid of technology. Between splutters, Rodney accused Carson of everything from malpractice to necrophilia, and all points in between. In the background, the physician could hear familiar muffed laughter; no doubt Radek was also enjoying his success at winding Rodney up. Eventually, the tirade faded to a mere trickle of insults and eventually ceased.

"Have you quite finished insulting me and my entire family now, Rodney?" the doctor asked.

"For the moment," the Canadian replied.

"Good, seeing as you asked so nicely, I'll be with you in about half an hour. Would that be okay?"

"It'll have to do, I suppose," the other man replied with a sulky reluctance.

oOoOoOo

By the time Carson had got Lorne settled, and some soothing lotion applied to his itch, almost an hour had passed. As he made his way to the Chair Room, he realized just how weary he felt. Glancing at his watch, Beckett realized 27 hours has passed since he'd last slept. Long shifts without sleep and unsociable hours were in the job description but they took their toll after a while. He wasn't a twenty-something intern anymore. Beckett had always had a problem with delegation, particularly now he was CMO. 'Lead by example' his old mentor had said, he felt responsible for everything that happened in the Infirmary. In fact, if the Scot was truly honest with himself, it wasn't just the Infirmary or even the wider boundaries of Atlantis itself; he felt responsible for the Athosians and any who might be in need of his services. His mentor had also warned him not to 'try and carry the weight of the world on his shoulders'; maybe he should start listening to the rest of his advice.

"No wonder I feel so bloody tired," he muttered to himself.

"And where have you been?" Rodney demanded as soon as Beckett entered the Chair Room, sounding to all the world like a scolding spouse.

"Sorry, I'm late," Carson said, nodding to another scientist as they left the room, obviously happy to escape. "Lorne took longer to diagnose then I thought."

"Well, now that you've finally decided to join us, I want you to test something out for me," Rodney said, his head not lifting from the laptop he was holding.

Carson couldn't hold back the groan, even if he had been expecting this. "Can't Colonel Sheppard help you?" he asked, still trying to get out of having to sit in the damnable contraption again.

"Sit in the Chair, Carson." Rodney said, in a firm, but resigned tone.

"You know that it's not that I don't want to help, Rodney," Carson said, feeling he needed to explain yet again. "It's just ye see, the Chair and I don't quite agree with each other. Bad things tend to happen when I sit in tha' thing. Are you forgetting a wee incident with a drone and…?"

"Carson SIT!" Rodney ordered.

Almost automatically Carson sat, looking like a child being made to take foul tasting medicine. Perching barely in the Chair he folded his arms to prevent himself from touching the activation pads.

"Why am I here, exactly?" he asked Rodney, unable to keep a slight note of resentment out of his voice.

"We found something in the Ancient's records that suggest the Chair might be able to re-charge a ZPM," Rodney replied, in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Really?" Carson asked, suddenly interested. His eyes lit up at the thought. The need to conserve energy had hindered them all since they'd arrived on Atlantis, and not just when they were trying to defend the city against the Wraith. But the excitement at the benefits of what they might achieve was soon taken over by his intense dislike of connecting to the Chair. It reminded him of when he was learning to drive a car, or a Puddle Jumper for that matter. He never felt completely in control. He felt the Chair was the one in charge, and he was just going along for the ride.

"All you need to do, Carson," Rodney continued, getting Carson's attention again and speaking to the Scot like he was a petulant child. "Is to connect to the Chair and then concentrate on the ZPM."

"But what if I do something wrong?" Carson asked. "You know my track record isn't exactly good. I could destroy the ZPM."

"It's not one of our main ZPMs," Rodney reassured him. "It's one we found from the list that the Ancient Elizabeth gave us. But it was almost completely depleted, so if you destroy it, it's no big deal."

Carson still didn't look particularly reassured.

"I'm still not all that happy to be doing this, Rodney," he said to his friend. "Can't Colonel Sheppard help you? He's much better at this sort of thing than I am."

"John is taking supplies to the Athosians," Rodney said dismissively. "You're it, Carson, so just get on with it. I don't have the time to waste holding your hand, figuratively speaking of course. So sit back and concentrate." He shoved Carson back into the chair for emphasis.

Resigned to his fate, Carson took a deep breath, placed his hands on the arm panels and willed the chair to 'turn on'. He cautiously allowed himself a wee moment of satisfaction when the Chair almost immediately responded, the back rest reclining as it activated. Closing his eyes tightly, the Scot concentrated on opening his mind to make the link with the Chair. He felt the familiar, almost overwhelming sensation of energy rushing up through his hands, small hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as the alien and almost eager 'presence' of the chair flooded his mind. Settling himself and almost confident he was in control, he tried reaching out to the ZPM which Rodney had installed in front of him. His mental reach was tentative, hesitant, but he could feel the Chair recognize his intentions and enthusiastically rush to make the connection, almost dragging him along for the ride.

As Rodney watched, Carson's eyes flew open, burning bright blue. The scientist watched, worried for a moment. He'd never seen that particular look on the doctor's face. Just as he reached out to touch Carson's arm, the ZPM started to hum. It was a strange, resonating sound. Rodney turned to look at it in fascination as it started to glow.

"Carson!" he said excitedly. "It's working! It's really working! Of course…I knew it should work in theory, but I didn't think you'd manage to make it work. But it's working…"

He turned back to the doctor only to find his friend's face was contorted in pain. A look of agony contorted the Scot's face.

"Carson?" McKay's earlier was enthusiasm forgotten in concern for his friend.

As Rodney watched, the doctor's body tensed in pain, back arching off the seat as he let out a groan that seemed to reverberate through his whole body.

McKay started to reach for his comm-link to call for medical back-up but before his hand reached his ear-piece, all hell broke loose. With Carson still connected both the Chair and the ZPM started to vibrate, the noise level increasing exponentially. The doctor let out one last groan of agony, then slumped into unconsciousness. At almost the same instant, the ZPM exploded; catching Rodney in it's full blast, a wave of energy throwing the helpless man across the room to connect with the wall and slide boneless to the floor. Silence and darkness fell, engulfing the room.


	2. Accusations

He could hear a lot of noise around him, disturbing him, waking him from his enforced sleep. He couldn't quite bear to open his eyes, but he could hear the voices of John and Elizabeth somewhere in the middle distance. Ronon's rumble could be heard to his right, and Teyla's voice was just beside him. He opened his eyes just a crack.

"He is waking," Teyla said, too loudly for Carson's liking. He closed his eyes again and gave a small whimper of pain.

"Carson," she said, more gently this time. "Please, open your eyes. How are you feeling?"

He cracked open his eyes slightly, peering though long lashes so that the light was filtered and subdued. He could make out the familiar outline of John and Elizabeth as they joined Teyla at his side.

"Carson," Elizabeth said, her hand gentle on his arm. "Are you ready to wake up?"

"R'ney?" he asked, struggling to get his voice to work.

"Your staff are with him now," Elizabeth replied. It was only later that Carson realized how non-committal her reply was.

"Do you remember what happened, Carson?" John asked.

"Chair . . . explosion," Carson managed to muttered, before his eyes started to close again. He couldn't seem to keep them open long and missed the concerned look that John and Elizabeth exchanged.

The next time he woke, he heard the steady beep of the heart monitor beside his bed. He opened his eyes slightly; just enough to confirm he was in the Infirmary, and then settled back down into a sleep that was bordering on unconsciousness.

It was the gentle touch of one of the nurses that finally woke him. Her hands were gentle as they checked his pulse and temperature. She was filling in the chart when he opened his eyes. For a moment he couldn't remember her name, then it came to him. Bannerman, Julie Bannerman. At that moment she looked up, and smiled when she noticed that he was awake.

"Welcome back, Dr Beckett," she said, softly.

"Thanks Julie," he replied, glad that he had remembered her name.

"I'll just get Dr Stanton," she said, and then disappeared from his sight. He tried to look around him, trying to peer around the privacy curtains to find his friend.But there was no-one else in sight, the curtain effectively blocked most of the rest of the infirmary especially the ICU beds nearer his office.

"Carson," Jeff Stanton said, as he approached the doctor's bedside. "Let me see how you're doing." With that, the young doctor picked up the charts at the end of Carson's bed.

"Well," he said with a smile. "It looks like you've been lucky this time. You have a pretty nasty concussion, and your right arm is fractured just above the wrist. Aside from a few minor cuts and contusions your doing pretty well considering what happened, it could've been a lot worse."

"How's Rodney?" Carson asked.

For a moment, Stanton looked worried, before the no-nonsense smile was forced into place.

"He's been better," he replied. "But let's worry about you first."

"Jeff!" Carson said, trying to imbue his voice was as much authority as he could. The other doctor looked at him for a moment, as if assessing whether he can cope with the information and not.

"Okay, Carson," he said. "Rodney's not good. The Chair seemed to have protected you from the worst of the blast. But Rodney wasn't so lucky. He's in a coma, and on a ventilator."

"Blast lung injury?" Carson asked.

"Yes," Stanton acknowledged. "We're pretty certain there are no more internal injuries, though we'll have to wait until wakes up to be sure, especially if there's been any damage to his ears."

Carson nodded, already exhausted by the exchange, the news quickly draining the last of his strength. As he drifted between wakefulness and sleep, he was vaguely aware of the voices of Elizabeth and John in the background; they seem to be arguing about something.

oOoOoOo

"I don't like Caldwell sticking his nose into our affairs!" John said, looking down at the floor in an attempt to control his anger.

"He's just offering to help, John," Elizabeth replied, failing herself in the unusual position of defending Caldwell.

"Well," John retorted. "We don't need his sorta help."

"What are you afraid of, John?" Elizabeth asked. "Surely it was just an accident."

"Then why do we need Caldwell to find that out for us?" he replied, sharply.

"Look Elizabeth," John said, trying to be reasonable. "There are enough rumours flying around as it is. I've already got several reports with no conclusive results but unofficial, the marine's scuttlebutt is saying that Carson tried to destroy the chair so Rodney couldn't make him use it anymore."

Elizabeth frowned. "At least they weren't suggesting Carson had tried to kill Rodney," she said sighing.

"Someone suggested that?" John asked, shocked.

"Two new arrivals in the science team," Elizabeth confirmed. "Radek stepped in and put them right, quite forcefully." She smiled as she remembered the scene.

"But if we let Caldwell poke his nose in," John said. "These rumours will just get worse. We both know Carson would never do anything like that. But not everyone knows Carson as well as we do."

Just at that moment, as if conjured up by their conversation, the Colonel appeared.

"Have either of them woken up yet?" he asked, without bothering with the nicety of a greeting.

John looked at Elizabeth and raised his eyebrow ironically.

"Carson is semi-conscious," Elizabeth replied, trying to keep her tone even. "Rodney is still critical."

"Here to interrogate them Colonel. You might have to wait a while." John's tone was even, but carried a wait of warning.

""With all due respect Colonel, I know this is your jurisdiction but I'm a little concerned by your lack of findings into what is, no doubt, a serious incident. And you don't think it is important to find out what happened?" Caldwell answered his question with one of his own. "Dr Beckett has managed to destroy a vital power supply, and possibly the Chair, and at the same time may have killed Dr McKay, and you don't want to know if it was just carelessness or a deliberate act of sabotage?"

"Now wait a minute," John said, taking a step towards Caldwell. "You can't come in here and start throwing accusations like that around without some proof."

"What makes you think I don't have the proof, already?" Caldwell retorted.

"Gentlemen, please, settle down," Elizabeth said, putting herself between the two men. "This is neither the time nor the place. We don't yet know what happened. Once Carson and Rodney regain consciousness, then we'll have a better idea. Until then, I don't want to hear any sort of speculation."

"So, Dr Weir," Caldwell said, challengingly. "You're happy for your CMO to lie there accused of endangering the life of your head scientist, without doing anything to prove it one way or another."

"Nooooooo . . ." the agonized cry could be heard all round the Infirmary.

All three had been so absorbed in their argument they'd failed to notice they had an observer. As their argument had become more heated, their voices louder, Carson had been roused to almost full wakefulness by their words, an unwilling participant in the exchange.

Elizabeth gave John an anguished look and they both started towards the prone doctor. However, their way was barred by Dr Stanton.

"I'm going to ask you to leave now," he said, sounding very like his CMO at that moment. "I think you've done enough damage as it is."

The physician's tone brokered no argument, and the two leaders looked at each other, and then left.


	3. Investigations

Stanton watched until he was sure that Weir and Sheppard had left the Infirmary, and then hurried over to his CMO's side. Carson was thrashing around, pulling out his IVs in the process. His heart monitor was beeping quickly, indicating his agitation.

"No, no, no," he almost sobbed, as he tried to free himself of all the equipment that was attached to him.

Jeff Stanton rushed over, and put his own hands over the Scot's trying to still them. Carson looked up at him, and there were tears in his eyes.

"I didn't try to kill Rodney," he said, somewhere between a statement and a plea.

"I know you didn't, Carson," Stanton reassured him. "They just need to investigate it so they can prove you didn't."

Stanton continued to talk soothingly to his patient, while at the same time re-inserting the IV lines and keeping an eye on the heart monitor. But Carson refused to be soothed, tossing and turning restlessly, obviously still agitated.

"Why would I want to kill Rodney?" he asked the other man. "He's my friend. I've kept him alive more often than I'd like to count. I wouldn't need to stage an accident to kill him, would I?"

In his agitation, Carson didn't notice Stanton slip the sedative into one of the IVs. Soon the Scot's words became more slurred, and his eyes started to close. Just before they closed completely, he looked up at the man treating him. There was a slight look of resentment in his eyes when he realized what had been done to him.

Stanton just gave a gentle smile in return. After all, it was trick he had learned from his boss.

oOoOoOo

Carson woke from his drug-induced sleep to a moment of blissful peace before recent events crashed into his consciousness. His agitation was obvious from the increasingly frequent bleep that was coming from the heart monitor at his side.

He tried to force his still befuddled brain to remember exactly what happened. He remembered sitting in the Chair and trying to focus on the ZPM. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if he had focused on Rodney instead. He had been mildly annoyed with him, nothing more than that. But perhaps that annoyance had focused him on the scientist, and the Chair had used that and attacked Rodney.

At that moment he hated the Chair. It made him feel out of control and dangerous. He vowed that he would never use the Chair again. No matter how many times Rodney tried to cajole him into doing so.

Thinking of Rodney made him turn to look at the curtained cubicle to his left. The only indication that Rodney was there came from the regular beep of the heart monitor. Carson felt frustrated by his own weakness. He wanted to be there for his friend, to treat him, to supervise his care. And his frustration was only accentuated by the fact he might have caused Rodney's condition.

oOoOoOo

Hidden from sight, he watched them. He noticed Beckett waking up, and saw his agitation. He noticed the glance the doctor gave across to McKay, and he could see the scientist lying immobile on his bed, looking more dead than alive.

His smile was one of evil delight. His plan had worked perfectly. He was glad now, that his target hadn't died. Making him suffer more, before his ultimate death, would make the end even more sweet. And then, and only then, would his revenge be complete. Before he died, his target would know the reasons behind it. He would know that his actions had caused his own death.

oOoOoOo

Stanton found John and Elizabeth in Elizabeth's office.

"How are they?" Elizabeth asked immediately. The stern look on Stanton's face worried her. She glanced at John and noticed that he was looking just as serious.

"Rodney isn't good," Stanton admitted, running a weary hand through his hair. "At the moment we just have to watch and wait. I'm still concerned about the damage the blast did to his lungs, and there may be some internal bleeding we could have missed. But he's a fighter, and that is something he has in his favour."

"And Carson?" John asked.

"His physical injuries are less serious, but emotionally he has been badly affected. Even before he overheard you talking, he had been distressed by something, but we couldn't work out what he was saying." There was a tone of censure in his voice, and both John and Elizabeth looked slightly guilty.

"We don't believe Carson had anything to do with this," Elizabeth said. "Do we Colonel?"

"No," John confirmed. "He'd never do anything to deliberately hurt Rodney."

"But . . .?" Stanton asked, hearing a note of uncertainty in the Colonel's voice.

"Well," John continued, slightly reluctantly, "Carson doesn't always have complete control over the Ancient technology, and perhaps . . ."

"No!" Stanton retorted, sharply. "He wouldn't do something like that, even by accident."

Elizabeth didn't commit either way. "What is important," she said. "Is that we prove that Carson didn't deliberately try to kill Rodney. We need to stop the rumours before they start."

"It's mostly among the new arrivals," John said, thoughtfully. "One of those damned scientists started it."

Elizabeth looked at him, her eyebrow raised. "And the military never gossip?" she asked, irony very evident in her voice.

"Not if I order them not to," he growled.

"The best way to stop the rumours is to prove that they are wrong," Stanton pointed out.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, firmly. "Colonel?" She turned to John questioningly. This was more a security issue so was within his jurisdiction.

"Agreed," he confirmed. "I've already got Teyla and Ronon asking around, and Radek is examining the Chair to see if he can work out what happened."

"Let me know as soon as you discover anything," Elizabeth said, to which John nodded.

Before John could respond, an emergency call came over the comm-link for Dr Stanton.

"Dr Stanton," came the anxious voice of one of the junior nurses. "It's Dr McKay. He's coding!"


	4. The Cause

John and Elizabeth followed Stanton as he rushed back to the Infirmary. The sight that met their eyes was not a reassuring one. Rodney was a small, vulnerable figure, lying in a sea of medical staff.

As soon as she saw Stanton, the young doctor who was treating Rodney, sighed with relief.

"Thank God you're here," she said. "I don't know what happened. The alarm on his heart monitor just went off without warning. There had been no indication of problems when I checked on him half an hour ago. We've stablised him for the moment, but his blood pressure is very low, and his heartbeat is irratic."

Stanton immediately took charge, checking the readings from the multitude of machines that were connected to Rodney. One of the Ancient scanners had been set up too, and Stanton studied the results carefully, before springing into action.

"Get an OR ready!" he ordered, with a definite urgency in his voice. "He's bleeding out. We must have missed it before. Quickly now!"

With a professional urgency, the team quickly moved Rodney towards the operating theatre, leaving John and Elizabeth to watch in stunned silence.

It was then that Elizabeth noticed Carson. He had pushed himself up so he was half sitting, and he was straining to see round the curtains that enclosed his cubicle.

She went over to him, and he looked up at her fear, mingled with tears, in his eyes.

"Is he going to be okay?" Carson asked. It struck Elizabeth forcibly that question was usually hers to ask, and it was generally directed at Carson.

"They think he is bleeding," John answered the question.

Carson nodded, thoughtfully, his professional detachment kicking in momentarily.

"It's a common problem for someone caught in an explosion," Carson said. "Stanton is good, though." His last remark seemed as much to reassure himself as it was to convince John and Elizabeth of its truth.

"He is," Elizabeth said reassuringly. "That's why you hired him."

Carson nodded, and then slumped back on the bed, obviously exhausted from the short exchange. As Elizabeth watched, the Scot fought to keep his eyes open. It was a battle he was losing as fatigue overtook him.

"You rest, Carson," she said softly, giving him permission to fall asleep.

"Rodney . .," he slurred.

"We'll let you know how he gets on," John said reassuringly.

With those words, the doctor let his eyes shut and he was soon sound asleep.

John and Elizabeth moved to one of the waiting rooms that had been set up in the Infirmary. It wasn't long before Teyla and Ronon joined them. The entered silently, and sat down with just a look of acknowledgment. A little while later, Radek joined them, looking very weary.

"Have you found anything, yet, Doc?" John asked.

Radek shook his head, and ran a weary hand over his eyes.

"I have checked the Chair, and there is no malfunction in it," he said. "Now, I look at the ZPM, but there is not very much of it left. But there is something there, a piece of Ancient technology . . . . but I can't get it to work."

"I can give you a hand later," John offered.

"Thank you, Colonel," he replied simply, and then settled down with the others to wait.

John wasn't sure how long they had to wait. He hadn't noticed when the drama had started. Each minute of waiting seemed like an hour, and each hour, like a day. But eventually, a weary Stanton came into the room.

"How is he?" Elizabeth asked the question before anyone else could.

"He's stable, again," Stanton said, a small smile coming to his lips. "It was a slow bleed, though I'm not sure how we missed it the first time we scanned him. But we managed to close the bleed and repair the damage. He's still weak, and has a long way to go, but he has every chance of making a full recovery."

John sat back with a relieved sigh. Elizabeth, who had stood at Stanton's arrival, laid a comforting hand on the doctor's shoulder and gave him a smile. Teyla sat in her usual state of calm, but her eyes betrayed her relief. Ronon leaned back against the wall, and smiled slightly. Radek let his head drop to his hands, and sighed deeply.

"We must tell Carson," Elizabeth said, remembering her promise.

"I've already told him," Stanton replied. "He was awake when we brought Rodney back out of the operating theatre."

"I go back to search," Radek said, getting to his feet.

"I'll come with you," John said, joining the Czech scientist. "Ronon, would you and Teyla ask around, see if anything or anyone strange was seen around the Chair Room."

The Satedan nodded, and he and Teyla left too.

Elizabeth gave Stanton another pat on his shoulder, then left to go to her office.

oOoOoOo

When John and Radek reached the Chair Room, John was shocked by the amount of damage that had been done. When he had been there before, his focus had been Rodney and Carson; to the extent that he hadn't really looked at the chaos around him. But now he didn't have any other distractions. It was a wonder that both Rodney and Carson were still alive; the explosion had obviously been a major one.

"This is what I found," Radek said, turning to John and handing him a small device, which was very obvious of Ancient design.

John studied it for a few moments, his expression grave.

"Where was it?" he asked Radek.

"Over here," the Czech replied. "It was linked in some way to the Chair. I am not sure exactly how, and it was pointed at the ZPM. I know not if it was part of Rodney's plan."

John continued to study the device in silence. His heart felt heavy and a sense of dread filled him.

Radek, confused by his continued silence, prompted him. "Do you know what it is, Colonel?"

"Yes," he confirmed, finally. "I've seen it before. Just the day before yesterday. Carson had just discovered it, in some obscure part of the Infirmary. It is some kind of medical laser."

John looked down and the laser sprung into action, sending a beam of light towards some of the debris from the explosion. It cut a very exact line through part of the fallen ceiling.

"Perhaps Rodney wanted to use it to help increase the effects of the Chair," Radek said uncertainly, trying to find an answer to the puzzle.

John shook his head. "Rodney didn't know anything about it," he said, a note of regret in his voice. "Carson told me he hadn't had time to show it to any of the scientists."

"Then why was it here?" Radek asked, trying not to see the obvious conclusion. "It would serve no purpose here."

"No," John agreed. "It wouldn't. From what Carson could figure, it's only real purpose is to cut through things."

"But it was pointed at the ZPM," Radek said, a note of horror in his voice. "If it cut into it, it would make it explode."

"Well," John said, with a sigh. "It kinda looks like we know what happened."

"So it was deliberate sabotage," Radek said, sadly. "But who would want to do that?"

"And, more to the point, who had an opportunity to?" John added.

"Who knew about this device?" Radek asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Carson, me, and a couple of other medics who were there when Carson discovered how it worked," John replied, also not liking the conclusions to which they were reaching.

"Why would Carson want to kill Rodney?" Radek asked. "They are friends."

"I can't believe that he does," John replied. "Okay, I admit it is the obvious conclusion, but come on, this is Beckett we're talking about. He's patched Rodney up, dealt with his allergies and his whining more times than I can count."

"Then what else happened here?" Radek asked.

"That's what I've still to find out." John replied.

As they left, neither men noticed that they were being watched. In the shadows, he stood, a wide grin splitting his face. So the good Colonel was still trying to defend his friend. But they had found what he wanted them to find. And now he would have to make sure that the rumours continued. He didn't want the finger of suspicion pointing at him. He needed to make sure someone else took the heat. So that he was free to continue his revenge.


	5. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

Carson was awake again when they brought Rodney back from the Operating Theatre. The Scot was beginning to feel a wee bit better. The extreme dizziness and the complete inability to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time had passed. His arm, however, seemed even sorer than before as the painkillers they had given him wore off. The swelling on the arm had prevented them from putting it in a cast immediately, and no matter how careful Carson was, he seemed to manage to knock his arm, sending shooting pains up the length of it.

He watched as they settled Rodney's prone figure back into the cubicle where he had been lying previously, and hooked him up to the various machines to monitor his vital signs. Carson felt a moment of pride when he watched his staff working like that. They worked smoothly and efficiently, while making sure that their patient was as comfortable as possible.

Just as they had settled Rodney, an emergency call was received. A team had returned through the Stargate with casualties. As Carson watched, his staff quickly organized an emergency team who rushed to the Gate Room, while those remaining started organizing beds and other equipment they might need. Again Carson felt proud of them.

He instinctively started to move to help his staff, but Stanton was obviously half expecting his boss to react like that. He turned to the Scot and slowly shook his head. Carson gave him a rueful grin, and settled back onto his bed.

As the injured team started to appear in the Infirmary, Carson noticed that Rodney had been left alone. There was no real reason for someone to hover over the scientist. The equipment would immediately alert the medical staff to any problems. Carson decided to take the opportunity to check his friend out himself.

He slowly got to his feet, making sure that the gown was not exposing any part of his anatomy that he didn't really want on public view. He stood still for a moment, letting the dizziness that surrounded him subside. When the world stopped spinning, he moved slowly over to where Rodney lay. He kept his broken arm close to his side, to protect it.

Once he reached Rodney, he looked down at his friend. His hand automatically reached out to take his pulse. Even though the monitor told him the scientist's heartbeat was regular, Carson still preferred the old-fashioned method of taking a pulse. You got so much more information from the touch.

Rodney's pulse was strong and regular, surprisingly so. Carson checked the charts and nodded. The signs were good. Rodney was still seriously ill, but he was now heading in the right direction.

After looking at the charts for a few moments longer, Carson turned, picked up a syringe, and turned back to Rodney.

oOoOoOo

As John and Radek made their way to Elizabeth's office, John heart felt heavy. He was trying to work out the gentlest way to tell Elizabeth that someone had deliberately tried to kill her Chief Scientist. And at the moment, the evidence suggested that the likeliest suspect was her Chief Medical Officer.

John's heart fell even further when he saw that Caldwell was with Elizabeth.

As soon as she saw them, she moved quickly towards them. John tried to warn Elizabeth with his eyes, that she might not want to discuss this in front of Caldwell. But she seemed oblivious to his warning.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her tone eager.

Radek seemed equally oblivious to John's warning.

"Yes," he replied with all the eagerness of a scientist with a mystery to solve. "We have found what caused the ZPM to explode. There was a device, an Ancient device, which was used to make it explode."

Elizabeth's eager expression turned to a worried frown.

"It was a deliberate act, then?" Caldwell asked from behind her.

"Yes," Radek replied. "It was deliberately targeted on the ZPM and linked to the Chair so that as soon as the Chair was powered up, it targeted the ZPM, making it explode."

"What sort of device was it?" Elizabeth asked. She was feeling uneasy about this. Just the fact that someone had deliberately tried to kill Rodney was bad enough, but something in John's body language suggested to her that she still had to hear the worst of it.

"It was an Ancient medical device," Radek responded, in his helpful manner. "It was a kind of laser."

"I hadn't heard about such a device," Elizabeth said, looking slightly puzzled. Rodney and Radek both tended to keep her informed of any new and useful Ancient devices they might have found.

"Carson only discovered it the other day," Radek explained.

John stood back, helplessly, as Radek dug a bigger hole in which to bury Beckett.

"Who else knew about this device?" Caldwell asked.

Radek turned to John so that he could give the reply he had given earlier. Reluctantly, John answered.

"The Doc, me and a couple of other medics."

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Caldwell. She didn't like the conclusions that seemed to be being forced upon them.

"You have to put Beckett under arrest," Caldwell said, a threatening note in his voice.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted to do was accuse one of her senior staff of attempting to kill another member of her senior staff. And especially when the person she had to accuse was Carson. He was her rock, her confidante, her sounding board. The last person she could see as a murderer was Carson.

"Let's not me hasty here," John replied, earning himself a scornful look for Caldwell.

"I think we've bent over backwards to avoid accusing the good Doctor of what seems to be more obvious by the minute," the captain of the Daedalus replied.

"Come on, Elizabeth," John said, ignoring the other man. "D'you honestly think Beckett tried to kill Rodney. Hell, I've wanted to kill Rodney a few times myself, but not Beckett."

Elizabeth had her thoughtful expression on her face, the sort of expression that told John she was weighing up the evidence and arguments before making a decision. He held his breathe as he waited for her to make a pronouncement.

Before she spoke, she gave John an apologetic look that meant her words did not surprise him.

"I don't think we have any choice," she said sadly. "We need to question Carson." She held up her hand as John tried to butt in. "I'm not suggesting we arrest him." She shot a look at Caldwell as she said this. "But I think we need to ask him about this."

"But he's already said that he didn't know that Rodney was going to ask him to use the Chair, so how could he have set this up," John argued.

"And he was going to admit to setting it up?" Caldwell asked, his voice laced with irony.

"And what happened to 'innocent before proven guilty?" John asked, before adding a belated "Sir".

"All I'm suggesting is that we give Carson a chance to put his side of the story," Elizabeth said in a reasonable tone.

John just looked at her, his eyebrows quirking.

"And you plan to do that with a couple of gun-totting marines?" he said nodding at the two security guards who were standing just outside her office.

"They are just a precaution," Caldwell said, defensively.

"Yeah," John replied, a challenge in his voice. "And just what sort of message does that give. Gonna have a nice, reasonable chat, and just ignore the guns trained on you."

"I've made my decision, John," Elizabeth said, a hint of steel in her voice. Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills taking place. But John saw the stubborn set of her chin, and knew she wasn't going to chance her mind.

Before John could argue further, she headed for the door of her office, Caldwell just behind her. An anxious Radek trailed behind them, leaving John to follow on at the end. He wanted to be there when they confronted Carson, to try to help the doctor in any way possible. John doubted that Elizabeth believed Carson to be guilty, but he knew she had to be seen to be doing the right thing. Caldwell, on the other hand, might just believe the doctor capable of this, and John wanted to be on hand to counter anything his senior office might say or do.

They passed a number of people on their way to the Infirmary, and received many strange looks. Ronon and Teyla were among those they passed, and they tagged on at the end, joining John.

"What's up?" Ronon asked.

They're expressions became incredulous as John quickly, and quietly explained what had happened.

"You do not believe Dr Beckett has done this?" Teyla asked.

"Of course not," John replied. "We just need to prove that he hasn't."

Ronon nodded his agreement, just as they reached the Infirmary.

There was seeming chaos before them, as the members of the recently returned team were being treated. John's eyes immediately flew to the far corner of the Infirmary where Rodney and Carson had been treated. The sight that met his eyes made his heart sink.

Carson was standing over Rodney, a syringe in his hand, ready to inject the scientist.

John wasn't the only one who had noticed this. Before John could react, Caldwell's voice had rung out over the noise of the Infirmary.

"Beckett!" he shouted. "Drop that syringe, or we shoot!"


	6. More Questions than Answers

Carson froze when he heard his name shouted in that particular tone. For a moment, he was confused, and then he spun round to see who wanted him. As soon as he moved, he realized it was not a good idea to turn quickly when you were recovering from concussion. The world started to tilt in an alarming manner. He swiftly put out his hand to steady himself, groping for something solid to cling on to.

One of the marines reacted quickly to Carson's actions. Before anyone could intervene, he swiftly brought up his gun, and fired at the doctor. It was only Ronon's equally swift response that saved the Scot. The Satedan shoved the marine so to the side, sending the bullet careering to the left, finally embedding itself harmlessly in the wall.

"What was that for?" Carson asked, stunned, bewildered and hurt all at once.

At the same moment as Carson spoke, a very angry voice reached them from the other side of the Infirmary.

"What the hell do you think you're doing to my patients?" A very angry Dr Stanton approached them.

John was equally as angry. He turned on the marine, who was not strictly under his jurisdiction as he was on the crew of the Daedalus, and gave the man a chilling stare.

"Just who the hell told you to fire, marine?" he asked, his voice as chilling as his stare.

"But he was reaching for a gun," the marine answered defensively.

"Anyone could see he was fighting to keep his balance," Elizabeth said, disapproval evident in each syllable.

Ronon took a more direct approach. He growled at the marine, and roughly took his weapon from him. "No more shooting!" he said, emphatically.

Stanton, seeing that everything was now under control with the military, hurried over to check on his patients. Rodney was still too heavily sedated to react with more than an instinctive restlessness. But Carson was another story.

The Scot was so pale he almost matched Stanton's lab coat. The hand that was resting on the trolley for balance was shaking so much it was visible from a few feet away. And the eyes showed hurt, bewilderment and a flash of anger.

With a gentle hand on his boss's arm, Stanton guided the other man over to the nearest chair, and gently pushed him down into it.

"Is he well enough for a few questions?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes," Carson said instantly.

"No," Stanton answered just as quickly.

The two doctors looked at each other, and held that gaze for a moment, as one assessed and the other pleaded.

"Look, Jeff," Carson said, pleadingly. "I just want to get this over with. I want to prove that I've not done anything wrong. I'll be fine."

Stanton looked at his boss for a few more moments, then nodded. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll agree to it, but I want to be there too, so that I can take any action that is required."

"Agreed," Elizabeth said. "Let's use Carson's office."

Carson automatically went to sit behind his desk, then looked uncertainly at Stanton.

"It's still your office," the younger man said with a smile. Carson returned the smile, and eased himself down into his chair, relieved to be sitting down again.

Carson turned his gaze to John, a worried look in his eyes.

"Did someone really try to kill Rodney?" he asked.

"Yes," John confirmed. He was about to add more information, when Colonel Caldwell put a hand on his arm.

"I don't think we should tell Dr Beckett too much at the moment," he said, warningly.

Carson's gaze turned on Caldwell. There was hurt mixed with a hint of anger.

"You don't honestly believe I'd try to kill Rodney, do you?" he asked. "He's a daft bugger at times, and damned annoying, but he's my friend."

"So you say, Dr Beckett," the Colonel replied, dismissively.

"Aye, and not just me, I would think," Carson answered, annoyance creeping into his voice more now. "Ask anyone in this room the same question, and they would confirm that Rodney and I are friends."

There were nods all round. But there was still a troubled look on Elizabeth's face.

"Carson," she said softly, coming over towards him. "I don't honestly believe you tried to kill Rodney. But the evidence is there, and people are going to talk. We have to investigate this thoroughly, to prove your innocence. And in the meantime, I think you should remain in your quarters. We'll put a guard on your door – for your protection," she added hastily before Carson could object.

"Can't I just stay here, keep an eye on Rodney?" Carson asked.

John and Elizabeth looked at each other. John sensed that Elizabeth still wasn't completely convinced of Carson's innocence, despite her words. John knew the evidence looked bad, but he couldn't find it in himself to believe Carson was capable of something like this.

"I think you'd be better in your own quarters," Elizabeth said. "It would be quieter for you, away from all the hustle and bustle here in the Infirmary."

Carson looked at her, a hint of resentment in his eyes. He had sensed the lack of complete trust. eHHhhhkkkiikkklHe looked down, trying to hide his hurt.

"Okay," he finally agreed, too tired to argue further.

"I'll get you settled there, Carson," Jeff said, helping his boss to his feet.

With that, the two doctors left. As soon as they'd gone out of earshot, John turned on Elizabeth.

"That was convincing!" he said ironically. "You might as well have told him you thought he was guilty."

"I don't think he's guilty," Elizabeth said quickly. "I'm just not sure he's innocent." John looked at her quizzically. "You have to admit, John," she continued. "Things aren't always what they seem here in the Pegasus Galaxy. A number of us have already experienced the effects of being possessed by an alien intelligence. And we can't rule that out this time round. The evidence is pointing very strongly at Carson. And I think we have to rule out all alternatives."

"Dr Beckett does seem his usual self," Teyla interjected. "I can sense nothing unusual about him."

"It could be something so subtle, that even Carson isn't aware of it," Elizabeth said. "So I think we should err on the side of caution, just for the moment."

oOoOoOo

In the shadows, the watching eyes were smiling. Things were going exactly to plan. Now the doctor was firmly in their minds as a suspect. And that would make access to his victim all the easier.

oOoOoOo

Sitting by Rodney's bed, John felt very weary. So much had happened, since the explosion in the Chair Room. Rodney had almost died, twice. And now Carson was suspect number one.

"I just don't know, Rodney," he said to his unconscious friend. "There is something not quite right about this. I know Carson would never try to kill you. Shout at you, inject you with some voodoo medicine, but not kill you. But I think he is trying to hide something. You know what Carson's like. He's about as good a liar as you are. Neither of you would make good poker players. And I need you, pal. I need you awake and ready to put some of that great brain of yours into action, to get to the bottom of this."

"How'm supposed to sleep with you yabbering away?" Rodney asked, rather doopily.

"You're awake!" John said, relief in his voice.

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me," Rodney said, the words slightly slurred but still as biting as ever.

"Carson?" he asked, looking around, then groaning as the world began to spin.

"Take it easy, Rodney," John said, putting a gentle, restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. "We almost lost you twice, so don't try to do too much just yet."

"Careless of you," Rodney said, his eyes shut again to try to stop the spinning.

"How are you feeling, Dr McKay?" Jeff Stanton's voice sounded.

"I get blown up, and cut up, and filled with your voodoo medicine. How do you think I feel?" Rodney asked.

"He's feeling better," John said with a smirk and grinned up at Jeff Stanton.

"I'll give you something to stop the nausea, Dr McKay," Jeff said, smiling too. "But it's good to see you awake again." With that, the doctor left to get the medication.

"Carson?" Rodney asked again.

"He's okay," John said, trying not to give too much away.

But even ill, Rodney was a little too sharp for that.

"Then where is he?" Rodney asked, yawning as he did so. However, before John could work out how to reply to that, Rodney fell asleep again, the restful sleep of healing.

oOoOoOo

Sitting in his room, Carson let his head fall into his hands. He couldn't quite believe what had happened in such a short space of time. Only a day or so ago, he'd been arguing with Rodney about the Chair, and now here he was, accused of trying to kill him.

He was positive that he hadn't tried to kill Rodney. But the problem was, there were blanks in his memory. At first, he'd put it down to the concussion. But now he wasn't so sure. What if the gaps in his memory were there because he was deliberately trying to block something out? What if he was trying to blot out the fact that he had tried to kill Rodney?


	7. Memories

The next time Rodney woke he looked up into the warm, brown eyes of Teyla Emmagan.

"Hello, Rodney," she said, with a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy," Rodney croaked. "Ice cubes?" he asked, remembering the ubiquitous ice cubes Carson usually had to hand. He hadn't been awake long enough the last time to ask for them, and John had annoyed him, as usual, which had made him forget about them.

Teyla smiled, and went to a small freezer that Carson always kept well stocked with ice cubes. She brought some over, a started to feed them to Rodney. He opened his mouth like a young bird, as she put the soothing cubes into his dry mouth.

Jeff Stanton arrived by his bed-side. "Good to see you awake again, Dr McKay," he said with a smile.

The doctor then started to fuss around, checking Rodney's charts, the IVs and the monitors. Rodney's eyes followed him around. Although Rodney knew he was a good doctor, the scientist didn't feel safe unless it was Carson who was looking after him. He didn't know why. His head told him that the other medics on Atlantis were all adequate at their job. But he had got used to Carson's care, and he trusted his friend to look after him.

He was about to ask again about where Carson was, but before he could form the words, a yawn overtook him.

"You are still tired, Rodney," Teyla said, obviously.

"She's been spending too much time with Ronon," Rodney thought to himself, but before he could say anything out loud, he found his eyes fluttering shut and he sank back into the land of sleep.

oOoOoOo

As John approached Carson's room, he was deep in thought. He had been doing more checking on the facts behind what had happened. So far, he had discovered that the only four people who knew about the medical laser seemed to be Carson, the two medics who had been helping Carson catalogue the Ancient technology and himself. He had spoken to both the medics and, unfortunately for Carson, they had both been able to account for their time between finding the laser and the explosion. John had also checked their stories with the people they had claimed to be with. It had all tied in. John knew he had nothing to do with the laser being in the Chair Room, and all that led back to Carson.

John was not looking forward to confronting the Scot with the facts. Carson was his friend. He had proved his worth to Atlantis on more occasions that John could count. But the facts seemed indisputable, only Carson knew about the laser and had the opportunity to put it in the Chair Room.

He nodded to the two marines who were guarding Carson's door, and then used his Ancient gene to open the door. The doctor was sitting on his bed, his head bowed, cradling his broken arm.

"Is it sore?" John asked, nodding at the other man's arm.

"Aye," the Scot replied. "They put a heavier cast on it, and it's a wee bit painful at the moment. How's Rodney?"

"He's doing fine," John reassured him. "He woke up briefly, snarked at me, and then fell asleep again." Carson smiled in response as John hoped he would.

"And your investigations?" Carson asked. It was the question John had been dreading.

"Well," he drawled, trying to work out how to answer the doctor. "I've not really found anything yet." He decided on evasion as the best possible route. But the doctor was used to looking beyond the obvious when dealing with patients.

"Does that mean you've not found anything at all, or just anything that will clear me?"

"I'm sure I find something soon," John replied, trying to appear upbeat.

"What if there's nothing to find?" Carson asked.

"You've been spending too much time with Rodney, Doc," John replied. "It's not like you to be negative."

"Do you think I tried to kill Rodney?" Carson asked another question. John had to remind himself that it was him that was supposed to be asking the questions.

"I find it hard to believe you would kill anyone, even Rodney," John replied. "Now if it was Ronon . . ."

Carson smiled again, but it wasn't a full smile, more of a polite acknowledgment of John's attempts at humour.

"So, Carson," John continued, trying to return to the purpose of this visit. "Can you tell me exactly what you did between finding the laser and the explosion?"

"That's the problem, Colonel," Carson replied. "I can't."

"Can't, Carson, or won't?" John asked, pushing, reluctantly to try to help the doctor clear himself.

"Can't, Colonel," he replied, emphatically. "I've tried to remember. Tried so hard my brain hurts, but there is a gap there. I remember finding the laser. I remember that I took it to put it in a safe place, but I don't remember where I put it, or what I did after I took it out of the room where we found it. There's a blank."

John frowned. He had hoped Carson would be able to clear himself, but this only added to the case against the doctor.

"Carson," John looked at the Scot keenly. "Do you think you tried to kill Rodney?"

The pause before Carson replied worried John more than the words that followed.

"I just don't know, John," he replied, surprising John by using his first name. "I don't think I did, and I can't bring myself to believe I'd do something like that. But why can't I remember? Why is there this blank in my memory?"

The despair in Carson's face reached out to John, and he placed an awkward, comforting hand on the other man's shoulder. But he could find no words to comfort his friend. The best thing he could do was to find out who had tried to kill Rodney, and prove beyond all doubt, to everyone, including Carson, that the doctor had nothing to do with the murder attempt.

oOoOoOo

Elizabeth was sitting behind her desk when John arrived at her office. He walked in without a word and flopped down on the chair opposite her. She looked at him, her eyebrow raised quizzically.

"All I've found so far says Carson's guilty," he admitted, reluctantly.

Elizabeth sat back in her seat, and sighed. "But you don't think he is?" she asked.

"No," John said. "At least I don't think so."

"That doesn't sound as definite as I'd like it to," she replied.

"Even Carson isn't sure," John responded. "He's can't remember what he did. And I mean really can't remember, sorta temporary amnesia."

Before Elizabeth could respond, a call came through both their comm-links. It came from Jeff Stanton.

"Dr Weir, Colonel Sheppard, could you come to the Infirmary immediately!"

John and Elizabeth exchanged and worried glance, as they got to their feet and responded to the summons.

As they approached the Infirmary, they could hear the raised and agitated voice of Rodney McKay.

"Oh boy," John muttered softly.

"Where is Carson?" he was demanding. "I want to see Carson? What are you not telling me? No, don't touch me," he continued, and the sound of a hand being slapped away accompanied his words.

"He seems to have recovered his voice," John said with irony. Elizabeth gave him a half-grin of acknowledgment.

"Ah, there you are," Rodney said by way of greeting. "Maybe I can get some answers now. These voodoo practitioners won't tell me where Carson is."

"He was injured too, Rodney," Elizabeth said soothingly. "He's in his room, resting."

"I know Carson," Rodney retorted. "He doesn't do 'resting'. What are you not telling me?"

Jeff Stanton had a slightly panicked look on his face.

"Dr McKay," he said. "Please calm down. You'll damage your wounds, and have a relapse. You really shouldn't get yourself upset like this."

"Then get Carson here, now. Let him tell me I'm going to be okay. Oh God, is that it, I'm dying and Carson can't stand to tell me that. Am I dying, Elizabeth?" he asked, turning blue eyes, currently filling with tears, towards the Expedition's Leader.

"No, Rodney," she said. "You are not dying, and neither is Carson, before you start worrying about that. Now please, do as Dr Stanton says, and settle down. We've been worried about you, and it's not good for you to get upset like this."

For a moment, it looked as though Rodney was going to be appeased by her words. Then his jaw took on a stubborn tilt, and he crossed his arms over his chest, before wincing and letting them fall to his side.

"Then tell me why everyone looks worried when I mention Carson?"

John and Elizabeth exchanged another anxious glance, then John stepped forward, and put a gently restraining hand on Rodney's arm.

"The problem is Rodney," John responded, deciding the truth might be the best way of calming Rodney down. "Someone tried to kill you. The experiment with the ZPM was rigged to make it explode."

"Someone wants to kill me?" Rodney asked, his voice laced with fear and fascination. "But who would want to kill me?"

"That's the other problem," John admitted. "At the moment, the only real suspect is Carson."

"Carson tried to kill me?" Rodney's voice went up an octave. "Why would he try to kill me? He's meant to save me!"

"We don't have the answers to that yet," John said. "And I'm still not convinced that Carson had anything to do with this, at least willingly. But for the moment, for your safety and his, he's confined to quarters."

"Carson tried to kill me?" Rodney said softly, looking at Elizabeth as if pleading with her to deny it.

"It looks that way," she said, her tone soft and comforting. "But we need you to get well again, so you can find the evidence to prove he didn't."

The appeal to Rodney's vanity worked, as he lay back, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Now that makes sense," he said. "So why is everyone still here, keeping me from sleeping?"

John shook his head, and turned to leave, a smile of amusement on his face. Elizabeth was good at manipulating the scientist.

"What's that grin for?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.

"Nothing," he said, still smiling, and then headed off towards his room whistling as he went.

"Men," Elizabeth exclaimed to no-one in particular. "Will they ever grow up?"

No-one thought it wise to answer.


	8. Discovery

Carson tossed and turned on his bed. It soon became obvious to him, that tossing and turning was not actually a very good idea. Although his injuries from the explosion were not nearly as severe as Rodney's, they were still painful. He was finding bruises and scrapes in places that he didn't expect. His arm was naggingly painful, and every time he moved to get comfortable, another part of him ached in protest.

His physical discomfort, however, was nothing to the emotional turmoil he was suffering. Part of him felt deeply hurt that people he considered friends would even half believe he would try to kill Rodney. But then, when he was being honest with himself, he half believed it too. The facts all seemed to point in his direction, and he had no memory of what had happened in the time from discovering the Ancient laser to waking up in the Infirmary. There was this nagging fear in the back of his mind, just as painful as his arm, that he might have deliberately set out to hurt Rodney. Why else would he erase the memory from his mind?

As Carson lay on his bed, willing his body to relax enough to sleep, his mind started to wander. His subconscious took over and reality made way for the unsettling world of the overwrought mind.

Over again, in time to the ticking of the clock beside his bed, Carson found himself pounding on the arms of the Chair. In his dream-like state, Rodney was lying on the floor in front of him, eating blue jello, and all the time, the Ancient laser was boring into the Stargate, cutting through one of the panels until it hung loosely. Then the laser would turn on Rodney, and start cutting through his body.

The dream-filled sleep was anything but restful, and every so often Carson would wake up, and try to force his mind away from the horror of the visions his sleeping eyes saw. But each time he drifted off to sleep again, the nightmares would return, and Rodney would be mutilated once again.

Eventually, he got up from his bed, and clumsily made himself some tea. It was strange how awkward something as simple as making tea was, when you only had one good arm.

He wandered slowly round the room, nursing his mug of tea. He was reluctant to lie down again, although his body ached with weariness. His vulnerable psyche could not cope with any more battering from the nightmares. His eyes rested on his computer, but he was reluctant to open it, scared of what he might find there. He knew there was talk about him, and it might have leaked onto the intranet, and even e-mails. Even well-meaning support would be too much for him to bear, just at that moment.

His restless eyes then fell on the device that sat beside his computer. He went over and ran his hand over it. It was another Ancient device that he had found a couple of weeks before. He and Rodney had investigated it. Rodney's suggestion was that it was a kind of medical black box – a cross between a life signs detector and a medical scanner. It seemed to detect the life signs of anyone in the vicinity and record their general health.

Rodney had linked it up to Carson's computer to run a test. He wanted to see what sort of information it would give over the course of a week. Carson had found the results interesting. From a medical point of view, he had been able to monitor his heart beat and temperature at the moment he fell asleep. He'd been able to see the effects on his body of reading a stressful e-mail or a comforting one.

Although Carson had found the results fascinating, Rodney had lost interest in the device as soon as he realized it had little use beyond a medical monitor. Carson, on the other hand, had thought of numerous useful applications for it, from monitoring vulnerable patients in their own rooms, to checking on stress-levels. He had left it hooked up to his computer so he could examine longer-term results.

Something in the back of his mind was nagging at him, telling him there was something important about the device, if he could only force his weary, stressed brain to concentrate for a moment.

The more he tried to concentrate, the more his mind seemed intent on wandering. His eyes took in the medical textbooks on his shelf, the picture of his Mum, the calendar of Scotland, but didn't settle on anything. Then a moment of clarity came, like a ray of sun through the mist.

He moved quickly over to his laptop, and opened it clumsily, hampered by the cast on his arm. He managed to work the mouse with his left-hand, though it was a rather shaky and erratic path that the cursor took to open the program he wanted to run.

After about 5 attempts, he managed to open the program that was linked to the Ancient device. John had worked out the timeframe during which Carson's activities were unknown. The Scot had left the lab, carrying the Ancient laser at 1900 hours and had not been seen again until 0900 hours the following morning, when he apparently had met Elizabeth for breakfast. Carson had had to take John's word for this as his memory of it was very hazy at best, and non-existent for the most part.

He quickly pulled up the information that the Ancient medical black box had downloaded onto his laptop. He scrolled through the data until he found the timeframe he was looking for.

As his eyes scanned the screen eagerly, he had to blink to focus on the information scrolling before him. Then he found what he was looking for. With a sigh, he sat back and raised his good hand to rub at his weary eyes, before he leaned closer to check the facts.

There it was, in black and white on the screen in front of him. At 1915 hours, he had entered his room, and, he drew in a surprised breath, he was not alone. The black box didn't give detailed information, certainly not detailed enough to identify who it was. What it did indicate was those who had the Ancient gene. So it was clear to Carson that who ever else had come into his room, did not have the gene, either naturally or after gene therapy.

He checked the other facts, and then frowned. Quickly calling up the data from the previous night, he checked it against the information from the night in question.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself.

The data was giving him quite a clear picture of what had happened that night. He had come back to his room at 1915 hours with another person, male he thought from the readings, who did not have the Ancient gene. Then by 1930, he was alone in his room, and in a very, very deep sleep. The readings suggested he was almost comatose. They varied sharply from the readings when he had slept the night before, and that night he had been exhausted, and had enjoyed a very deep sleep.

So in those 15 minutes between getting to his room, and being left alone, something had caused Carson to fall into a state of unconsciousness. His tiredness had left him as his brain struggled with the puzzle. He wished he could talk it through with Rodney. The scientist's logical brain often saw patterns where Carson saw none, and made lateral leaps that made perfect sense, but which Carson hadn't thought possible.

Restlessly, the doctor's eyes roamed round his room. Then stopped and returned to the shelves over by his bureau. On the shelves, almost hiding behind a pile of books, stood a whisky glass. It still had a sticky residue of undrunk whisky in the bottom. Carson went over to it and lifted it to his nose, and sniffed. It smelled of normal whisky. For a moment he smiled, distracted by the memory of the family dog who hated the smell of whisky and used to make a massive detour to avoid any whisky glasses laid on the floor.

But he managed to drag his wandering mind back to the here and now. On the side of the glass was something that didn't belong there. Carson had his suspicions as to what it was. It was the remnants of a clear liquid that seemed to have clung to the side of the glass whilst it was being poured into it. And it most certainly wasn't whisky. He needed to get the lab to test it.

The moment of clarity extended even further, when a frightening thought struck him. He now knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he had nothing to do with the attempt on Rodney's life. He'd been unconscious in his room the whole time he had been on his own. So that meant someone else was behind the attempt.

That was bad enough, but if Colonel Sheppard and the others thought that Carson was responsible, and that they had Carson confined to his room, the security around Rodney might not be tight, in fact, in might be non-existent.

"I must speak to the Colonel," Carson muttered to himself, heading straight for his door and opening it with his mind. As he stepped through the door, his mind was on what he had to do. He had forgotten that his room was being guarded by two marines. As he appeared, the two men swung round, their guns raised, and pointed at him.

Carson, instinctively, took a step back, and held up his hands in surrender. He quickly let his right hand fall to his side as a sharp pain shot up his injured arm.

"Take it easy, lads," he said. "I'm not going to attack you or anything. I just have to see Colonel Sheppard. That's all."

The two marines exchanged a glance, and seemed to communicate in some strange, non-verbal way, that people who worked together and fought together had.

"I'll take you there," the marine on the right said. Carson didn't know either of the men. They had just recently arrived on the Daedalus and he hadn't been involved in their medicals.

The other man nodded, and took up the stance Carson had seen the guards who had stood watch over the Wraith use. It made him wonder if they considered him on a par with the Wraith.

Before his mind could wander further down that avenue, he realized that the first marine was indicating he should precede him along the corridor. As they set off for Sheppard's quarters, it soon became apparent to Carson that the marine wasn't sure where to go.

"Do you want me to take the lead?" he asked gently.

"Yes, Sir," the marine responded, giving Carson more respect than the doctor had anticipated.

"Very well, lad," he said, trying to keep his voice, and demeanor calm. "Just you follow me."

The corridors of Atlantis were quiet at that time of night. Although people worked all hours, there were definitely fewer around in the middle of the night. Carson generally found the city a soothing place when he had cause to go on a nocturnal wander, but with a fully armed marine at his back, and the life of his friend depending on his action, all thoughts of peace were banished.

He picked up his pace, sensing the marine behind matching it. As they got closer to Sheppard's quarters, Carson's sense of unease increased. It felt like someone, or something, was watching him. And it was not a benevolent observation. Carson felt threatened, felt a sense of danger.

He picked up his pace even more, and almost ran along the corridor, his nerves on edge. When the blast came, it had sense of sickening inevitability about it. Even so, Carson, his nerves on edge, jumped, especially when he heard the thud of the marine's body as he hit the floor.

He turned, to confront the attacker, but there was little he could do. He saw a brief glimpse of a hooded figure, dressed all in black, before his world exploded in a starburst of excruciating pain.


	9. The Plot Thickens

When Carson woke, it took a few moments for him to remember where he was. As he turned his head to look around, he felt the rough flooring in the corridor burn his face. It all came back to him in a flash of pain. He had been stunned but not by an ordinary stunner. He knew what that felt like after his little encounter with Phebus using Elizabeth's body, and this didn't feel like the same thing at all. Someone had modified a stunner. Carson frowned, thoughtfully. Whoever was doing this obviously had technical ability. First they adapted the medical laser and now they enhanced the stunner.

However, Carson's thoughts were interrupted when he turned his head to his right, and saw the marine who had been accompanying him.

Getting slowly and awkwardly to his feet, Carson went over to the body of the other man. He was lying in a pool of blood; his throat cut with almost surgical precisions.

"Och, lad, I'm so sorry," Carson said sadly. As he looked down at the other man, Carson's eye caught sight of something glinting in the dull light of the corridor. He nudged it with his foot, and saw, to his horror, that it was one of his scalpels. The marine's throat had been cut by one of his own scalpels. They were engraved with his initials and had been a present from his Mum. It made him even more sad to see one of these treasured gifts mis-used in such a way.

Without thinking, and acting instinctively, Carson reached down and picked up the scalpel. Just at that moment, he heard a noise behind him, and turned towards it.

"Carson," said John Sheppard. "Put that knife-thing down." The colonel stood there, his gun trained on the doctor, a frown on his face. Ronon stood beside him, his weapon trained on Carson too.

"It's a scalpel," Carson responded. Somewhere in the back of his still slightly confused mind, he felt the need to correct John.

"Okay," John replied. "Put the scalpel down."

Carson did so, placing it very carefully on the ground. "It's one of mine," he said, not noticing the worried glance that John and Ronon exchanged. "He killed him with one of my scalpels. They were a gift from my Mum. She wouldn't like that."

"Carson," John continued. "I want you to come with me."

Carson looked up at him, his eyes still holding a look of bewilderment. All that had happened over the last few days was starting to take its toll on him. Looking at John, he suddenly remembered why he had been in the corridor in the first place.

"Rodney," he said, again earning a worried look between John and Ronon. "You have to protect Rodney," he continued.

"Yes, Carson," John agreed, speaking simply, as if to child. "Why did you try to kill him?"

"I didn't try to kill him," Carson said, a frown on his face. "I was trying to warn you that since I didn't try to kill him, someone else did and might try again."

There was a real sadness on John's face. "You did try again, Carson," John answered, the sadness in his voice mirrored that in his face. "Someone tried to kill Rodney with this scalpel, after you escaped from your room."

"But it wasn't me," Carson said, still frowning.

"I wanna believe you, Doc," John responded. "But you were missing at just the time someone tried to kill Rodney. The evidence against you is mounting up, and for your own safety I think it's best if we lock you up, in a cell."

"Is Rodney okay?" Carson asked, not quite taking in all that John had said.

"Yes," Ronon confirmed. "Someone interrupted the attempt."

"Then, you must know it wasn't me," Carson said, pleadingly.

"You were identified, Carson," John said, gently, still not wanting to believe all the evidence himself. "Someone saw you try to kill Rodney, and saw you escape when you were found out."

"Who saw me?" Carson asked, his mind still trying to get round the facts. "How could they see me if I wasn't there?"

"It was Thomas," John said. "The new nurse who arrived on the Daedalus a few weeks ago. But he knows you well enough to identify you."

Carson's expression was still one of bewilderment. "But I wasn't there," he said.

"Then where were you?" Ronon asked.

Carson looked troubled. "I . . I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "I lost consciousness and then when I woke up, I was here, and the marine was dead." He looked over at the marine's body sadly. "But John," he said remembering his reason for going to see John in the first place. "I've proof I didn't set up the laser to try to kill Rodney. I couldn't have. I was in my room, asleep, maybe drugged."

John listened patiently while Carson explained what he had found.

"Look, Carson," he responded with a sigh. "I'd love to believe you. But that would be kinda easy to set up. The evidence is stacked up against you, and that doesn't prove anything other than someone with the Ancient gene slept in your room that night. It doesn't prove it was you."

The look on Carson's face almost broke John's heart. He dearly wanted to believe the doctor had nothing to do with the attacks on Rodney, but it was getting more difficult with each incident.

"Carson," he said, putting his hand on the Scot's arm. "I've no choice but to put you in one of the cells."

"But Rodney . . ," Carson said.

"We'll keep a close eye on him too," John assured him.

Carson nodded. Slightly happier than before, he allowed himself to be gently led away by Ronon.

oOoOoOo

John made his way to Rodney's side, his heart heavy, his mind troubled. Teyla was sitting there, talking quietly with Rodney. She glanced up at John, her expression worried. John slowly shook his head, and she responded with a sigh.

"Okay," Rodney said, his voice still slightly hoarse. "What were the amateur dramatics for? All that head shaking and sighing. Just what are you trying to hide from me? And where is Carson? Why will no-one tell me where Carson is? You don't still believe he's trying to kill me? Is there still something wrong with me? Is that why no-one is telling me anything?"

"No, Rodney," John said, a false patience in his voice. "The reason no-one is telling you anything is that there is nothing to tell you."

"Oh, thank you," Rodney replied, sharply. "That makes everything so much clearer. Someone tried to kill me, and there is nothing to tell me. You don't think I might be interested in who is trying to kill me? And what chance have you got of finding out who killed me anyway? Unless it's some blonde, with long legs and cute dimples, you wouldn't notice."

"And was it me who almost got us killed trying to show off to Norina?" John retaliated.

"And was it your brilliantly inspired plan that got us out before we were all blown to millions of pieces?" Rodney asked sharply.

Teyla tried to hide her smile as she witnessed another round of the friendly fighting that was very much part of the relationship between these two men.

Then Rodney's expression turned more serious, and there was a look of hurt in his eyes.

"Do you honestly think Carson is trying to kill me?" he asked, a note of vulnerability in his voice that matched the look in his eyes.

"We are looking into every possibility," Teyla said, trying to reassure the scientist. "But we will also ensure whoever is responsible cannot hurt you any more."

But Rodney wasn't in the mood to be reassured. "But why would he want to kill me?" he asked.

"Do you want the obvious reasons?" John asked, with a grin. "Ouch," he continued turning to Teyla. "What was that for?" He looked down at his shin, which had come in contact with the edge of Teyla's boot.

"Do not worry, Rodney," Teyla said, reassuringly. "He is simply teasing you. Are you not, Colonel?" she asked pointedly.

John grinned in response, and was about to respond, when his comm-link interrupted.

"Colonel Sheppard," the voice said. It had a strident note that gave the words a note of urgency and almost panic.

Teyla's eyes met John's.

"It's one of the marines guarding Carson," John said, half to himself, half to the others.

"What is it?" Rodney asked, feeling left out of the conversation.

As if in response to Rodney's comment, the marine continued. "There's a problem with Dr Beckett. We need you here now, Sir, and some medical help too!"


	10. Causes and Cures

John dashed down the corridor towards the cell where Carson was being held. Teyla was close behind him, and Stanton and another medic just steps behind her. Rodney had wanted to come too until Stanton had threatened to set Nurse Thomas on him. Nurse Thomas was an ex-marine and a man-mountain besides. Rodney had a sudden change of mind about joining the rush to Carson.

"Thomas is almost as effective as Ronon in persuading Rodney to 'sit and stay'," John commented to Stanton.

Stanton managed to squeeze a smile onto his anxious face in response.

"Yes," he replied. "He has a lot of uses, does Nurse Thomas."

Just at that moment, Elizabeth joined them, and Ronon was just behind her.

"It's busier than Dupont Circle in the rush hour," Stanton muttered under his breath as he pushed past the others to reach the cell in which Carson was being held.

John and Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance, although they hurried after him. When they reached the cell, one of the marines remained on watch at the door, the other was beside Carson's body, lying on the ground. One of them had had the presence of mind to put Carson into the recovery position.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I don't know, Sir," the marine answered. "He seemed fine, one minute, then we heard a thud and when we went into the room, he was lying on the floor, Sir."

Turning to Stanton, John sought the doctor's opinion. "So how's he doing, Doc?"

"He's unconscious," Stanton replied, rather sharply. His tone said more than his words about his anxiety over his friend's condition. Then, as if he realized how he sounded, and remembering his audience, he continued more gently. "He's breathing is shallow and his pulse erratic, but I can't say more until I get him back to the Infirmary."

"Is that wise?" Caldwell asked, as he arrived just in time to hear Stanton's last remark.

"Unless you want to be responsible for his possible death, Colonel," Stanton said, his sharp tone returning, "then, yes, it is necessary."

Before long, Carson, with a medical entourage, was being wheeled to the Infirmary. They took him to an isolated part of the area, as far away from Rodney as possible. And then the flurry of activity started, as they linked Carson's still unconscious figure up to various monitors and IVs and set up one of the Ancient scanners.

Turning to the following group, Stanton held up his hands to stop them from going any further.

"I'm sorry, but we need room here to do our work," he said firmly. "I'll let you know as soon as we find anything."

Elizabeth nodded in response, and herded the group away from the medical activity around Carson.

"Anxious friend, here," Rodney's voice carried across the Infirmary, reminding John of his duty to his other friend.

As they made their way over to the anxious scientist, the fear was there in Rodney's eyes.

"He's not been giving himself some voodoo medicine has he?" the Canadian asked, trying to mask his feelings as usual.

"They don't know what's wrong yet," Elizabeth said. "But Dr Stanton is good, and he'll do everything he can."

Not feeling particularly reassured by her words, Rodney shifted impatiently in his bed. When he was worried, he did things. But at the moment, he was confined to bed, both by medical orders, and his own weakness.

"He is going to be okay, isn't he?" he asked, pleading with them to give him a positive answer.

"We do not know for certain," Teyla responded, her voice reassuring. "But Carson is strong."

"And stubborn," Ronon rumbled, slumping down on the seat beside Rodney's bed. One by one, the others found a spot to settle as they waited for news about Carson.

The wait was a long one, as Stanton seemed to carry out test after test on the Scot. Every so often, one of the nurses would scurry off with a vial of blood or to get another piece of equipment.

Eventually, Stanton came over to join them. His face was serious as he surveyed their anxious looks. It seemed ironic to him that these were the people who had been responsible for locking Carson up, and now they were anxiously waiting for news about the state of his health. He felt encouraged at this – that they hadn't yet given up on the Scot, or his innocence.

He paused for a moment, trying to work out how to answer the unspoken question in each pair of eyes currently looking at him.

"I honestly don't know what is wrong with him," he finally admitted. "There are only two things that make any sense when I look at the results I've got from the tests, and I can't prove either of them."

"What do you mean, Jeff?" Elizabeth asked, a frown appearing between her eyes.

"Well, Carson's unconscious," Stanton started.

"And you needed a medical degree for that?" Rodney asked, his anxiety showing in his usual sarcasm.

Jeff ignored it. "But there is nothing physically wrong with him. His body is stressed both after being caught in the explosion and the emotional turmoil he has faced, but there is something more. There is some evidence of a residual stunner blast, but we still don't know how long the effects of a stunner linger, and as he's been stunned quite recently . . " Elizabeth looked rather embarrassed at that moment.

"And the other thing?" John asked.

"Well, remember that glass of whisky you found in his room?" Stanton responded. John nodded. "We found traces of GHB in the glass."

"The date-rape drug?" Elizabeth asked.

"Has Carson been raped?" Rodney asked, horrified.

"Yes, it is the date-rape drug, and no, Carson hasn't been raped," Jeff responded quickly.

"But what does that prove?" Elizabeth asked. "Did someone drug Carson?"

"It's possible," Stanton replied. "But GHB can also be taken as a recreational drug."

"So now not only is Carson a murderer, he's also a drug-addict," Rodney said.

"No, I'm not saying that," Stanton replied quickly. "I'm just saying it's a possibility."

"I thought GHB only had a short-term effect," Elizabeth said. "So why is he still unconscious?"

"That is what I don't know," Jeff admitted, wearily. "I can only assume his body has been overloaded, and has more or less shut down. He's in a very deep sleep, as if his body has had enough stress and has just given up."

"Is he in danger?" Ronon asked.

"At the moment, I really don't know," Jeff replied. "I'm afraid I don't really know very much and without the medical evidence, I've not much to work on."

He looked at the worried faces before him. He felt he was letting his boss down, letting his friend down, by not finding out what was wrong with him, and finding a way to cure him.

"Carson would find out what was wrong and how to cure it," Rodney said, his voice edged with resentment.

"And I wish he were awake so I could ask him," Jeff admitted. "But for the moment you're stuck with me. All I can suggest is speaking to Thomas, as he might be able to help."

"The nurse?" Rodney asked scornfully.

"The one who was a Marine?" John asked.

"Don't tell me," Rodney continued. "He's a research biologist as well."

"Actually," Stanton responded, a small grin curling the corner of his mouth for the first time in hours, "he is working towards his PhD at the moment."

Elizabeth nodded. "I remember discussing him with Carson before he came. He was doing research on GHB, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Jeff replied. "It's quite a sad story really. His sister was raped, after her drink was spiked with GHB. The guy who raped her got left off, and she couldn't live with it and killed herself. That's when Thomas left the Marines."

"To find an antidote to GHB?" John asked.

"No," Jeff replied. "To find those who raped his sister, who he considered her murderers."

Ronon nodded in approval.

"Once they were brought to justice, he then started working on finding something to counteract the effects of GHB and a test for discovering traces of it, even after it has ostensibly left the victim's system. That's why his sister's rapist got off; they couldn't prove Thomas's sister had been drugged."

"Then why is he a nurse?" Teyla asked.

"He had to pay his way through college to get the qualifications he needed, and the expertise," Jeff responded. "And he couldn't afford to train to be a doctor."

"So would it be worth having a chat with him?" John asked.

"He might be able to rule out GHB as the cause of the continued unconsciousness," Jeff responded. "Or confirm it. I'm not really sure what stage his research is at, but he's likely to know more about that I do. I've only encountered a few cases, and they were admitted to the hospital not long after ingesting it, and Carson took it several days ago."


	11. Did You Try to Kill Me?

An hour or so later, John found himself facing the man-mountain that was Nurse Thomas. Ronon was at his side, making John feel strangely small between these two large men.

"I'm not sure how I can help you, Sir," Thomas said. "My research is still at quite early stages, and the scientists you have here on Atlantis are much better than me."

"It's one aspect of your research in particular, Thomas," John tried to reassure him. "Dr Stanton says there is a possibility that Dr Beckett was drugged using GHB, or something similar. Now I believe you've been doing some research into that."

The look on the other man's face was one of extreme sadness. But his answer was a simple one.

"Yes," he replied.

"Is there anything you can suggest that might help us check to see if Carson was drugged?" John asked, hopefully.

Thomas shook his head thoughtfully. "I've tried to develop a test for GHB once the obvious signs have left the body," Thomas said. "But that's only been a sideline. My main emphasis is to develop some kind of vaccine against it. Something that will stop it from having an effect in the first place."

"So, d'you have anything that can help us or not?" Ronon tried the direct approach, as usual.

"I've had some success in finding traces of GHB," Thomas admitted. "But the side effects have been discouraging."

"How discouraging?" John asked.

"Fatally so," Thomas said, his eyebrow lifting ironically.

"Ahh," John replied. "So you're not really ready to test them on a human subject?"

"I've modified the test since I last ran it," Thomas responded. "And I think I'm getting closer to finding the answer, but I'd say I was still a long way off being ready to test it on a human subject. I've only been on Atlantis a few weeks, and I don't really want to be remembered as the man responsible for killing the CMO here. I think the test could only be used as a last resort."

"The problem is," John admitted. "We're getting kinda close to the last resort. Carson is still unconscious and we're no closer to proving that Carson didn't try to kill Rodney."

oOoOoOo

All was quiet in the Infirmary again, at last. Rodney rested on his bed, in the corner. He was feeling better than he had since his close encounter with the exploding ZPM. But although physically he was improving, his mental, emotional state was not. His eyes kept straying to the curtained cubicle at the other side of the Infirmary where Carson's unconscious figure lay.

From what he had overheard, Rodney knew that Carson had woken up occasionally, and briefly. But they were still monitoring him closely and guarding him securely. More than anything else, Rodney wanted to talk to Carson, to ask him, to his face, if the Scot was trying to kill him. Rodney didn't want to believe it, but he had seen so many strange things since he came to the Pegasus Galaxy, that he was reluctant to rule out anything.

His opportunity came when another team came back from a mission, and once more the Infirmary was a hubbub of activity. Even the marines were distracted. It probably had something to do with the pretty blonde nurse who was tending to the minor injuries one of the team members was suffering from. Rodney signed and wondered if all military men were the same.

No-one really noticed when Rodney got up from his bed. He had been wandering around periodically, under doctor's orders to get moving. He casually started to head towards Carson's cubicle, trying not to appear as if that was his target. As he approached the cubicle, he glanced round to see if anyone had noticed. His eyes met those of Jeff Stanton, working in another part of the Infirmary. Rodney held his breath, but the doctor just smiled slightly and gave a slight nod. Rodney slipped through the curtains around the cubicle, and got his first proper view of Carson in a number of days.

The Scot didn't look good. His face was as white as the sheets that covered him. His dark lashes seemed very obvious against the white of his cheek. Rodney's eyes went to the monitors but they told him little apart from the fact Carson's heartbeat was strong and steady.

He moved over to the side of the bed, and laid a hand on Carson's arm. Blue eyes shot open, intense against his pale face.

"It's just me, Carson," Rodney whispered. The eyes turned to Rodney's face, gazing at him intently.

"R'ney," Carson said, slurring the word slightly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Rodney said, almost impatiently. "You're the one lying in the bed hooked up to the monitors."

Carson smiled slightly. Rodney stood in silence for a moment, not sure how to ask the question that was at the forefront of his mind. Carson's eyes drifted shut, but only temporarily.

"I didn't try to kill you, Rodney," Carson said, answering Rodney's question even before he had asked it. "I need you to believe that."

"I don't want to Carson," Rodney answered. "I know my opinion of your profession isn't generally very high, but I trust you more than any other doctor I've met. Saying that, I've not trusted any of them at all. But you've treated my many and varied health problems on many occasions, so it wouldn't make sense for you to turn round and try to kill me. My only problem is that not everything in the Pegasus Galaxy makes sense."

"I wish I could explain what's happening, Rodney," Carson said, with a sigh. "But I cannae. Given the facts, I'd almost believe I tried to kill you."

"Sheppard said something about evidence you were in your room," Rodney said, a query in his voice. "As usual, his grasp of the complexities were a little shaky, but it seemed to think it wouldn't be of any help."

"It was that Ancient medical scanner we had set up in my room," Carson explained.

"You left it hooked up?" Rodney asked.

"Aye," Carson replied. "I thought it would be interesting to see the results over a longer time-frame."

"And it showed you were in your room at the time the laser was set up?"

"It showed someone with the Ancient gene was," Carson admitted. "And as the Colonel pointed out, it doesn't prove it was me."

"You know," Rodney said, resting his chin on his hand in a thoughtful way. "There are further modifications I could do to the scanner, and the information it gives us. I might just be able to persuade it to show that it was you in your room. Now let me think," he said, his voice drifting off thoughtfully.

"There was someone else there too," Carson said.

"You had someone else in your room?" Rodney asked.

"It would appear so," Carson admitted. "But I can't remember anything about it."

"I wonder," Rodney said. "If I tweak the data slightly, I might be able to narrow down the field as to who that was as well."

"Does that mean you believe I didn't try to kill you, Rodney?" Carson asked, a plea in his blue eyes.

"What?" Rodney said, his thoughts focused on what he might be able to achieve with the data from the Ancient device.

"Rodney, I need you to believe I didn't try to kill you," Carson responded. "It's important to me, that you, of all people, believe in me."

"What," Rodney said distractedly. "Yes, yes, of course I believe you. After all, you'd be stuck without me to help you with all those medical devices you can't work out how to use."

Carson sank back on the bed, with a sigh of relief. Rodney allowed a smile to play on his lips, but kept it hidden from Carson. He knew that the best way to get Carson to believe him was to mask the truth behind his usual off-hand, flippant manner. He believed Carson. He knew the Scot was as bad at lying as Rodney was himself. And it took one incompetent liar to know another. Carson always knew when Rodney was lying about his injuries, and now Rodney realized he could read the Scot just as well.

"I'll tell you what, Carson," Rodney said, turning back to his friend. "Let me have a look at that device and see if I can persuade it to give us some more information. That is, of course, if Zelenka hasn't destroyed all the data with his clumsy intervention."

Carson smiled, his eyes closing. He felt more at peace than he had since this whole business had blown up, literally. Then a thought shattered his peace, and caused his eyes to shoot open.

"Be careful, Rodney," he said, reaching out to touch his friend's arm. "There is still someone out there trying to kill you."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Rodney said. "Sheppard won't let me go anywhere without setting a couple of bloodhounds on me. And here in the Infirmary, there seems to be more marines than patients."

"Well, just be careful," Carson said, his eyes closing again. Rodney stood and watched him for a moment, until the doctor's breathing became the deep, even breathing of sleep.

As he slipped out of the cubicle, Rodney didn't notice the eyes watching him. The eyes followed him as he made his way back to his bed, and then shifted to watch the doctor, lying sleeping.

"Interesting," the owner of the eyes murmured. "So you have an ally, doctor. And one who thinks he might be able to clear you. Unfortunately, I think your computer is about to have a little accident, and all that data will be lost. Then I'll be free to get on with my revenge. Enjoy your sleep while you can, my good doctor, because before long, your nightmares will return!"


	12. The Evidence Vanishing

Three hours later, John returned to the Infirmary to find Rodney sitting on his bed, with Carson's computer in pieces around him. He was muttering to himself, and John suspected some of the mutterings might be some Czech oaths he'd picked up form Zelenka.

"Rodney?" John said, questioningly as he approached. "Aren't you meant to be resting?"

"Idiot," Rodney muttered. John looked at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Not you!" Rodney replied, impatiently. "Here, hold that for a minute." Rodney handed John a small component from inside the computer.

"What are you doing?" John asked, holding the component carefully, as if it were about to explode.

"I'm trying to prove that Carson didn't try to kill me," Rodney replied, as if it was obvious.

"Okay," John drawled. "And how is this helping?" He waved his free hand at the computer in a multitude of bits.

"Well, some idiot erased the data from Carson's computer," Rodney said, disgust in his voice. "I'd promised Carson that I would look at the data, to see if I could find something to prove he was in his room rather than setting up the laser."

"You've spoken to Carson?" John asked, picking up on the less obvious point. "Is he awake?"

"Sometimes," Rodney replied, dismissively. "But when I checked the computer, someone had erased the data."

"Was it Carson?" John asked.

"Not unless he managed to be in two places at one time," Rodney replied. "It was erased while he was carefully under guard here in the Infirmary."

"Dr McKay!" Jeff Stanton's voice rang across the Infirmary. "Just what are you doing?"

"He's trying to prove Carson's innocent," John said, ironically. "Isn't it obvious."

Stanton just gave John a withering look.

"You should be resting," he said, addressing Rodney.

"How can I rest knowing someone is trying to kill me, and that Carson is being accused of it?" Rodney replied with an edge to his voice.

"If you don't rest, Dr McKay," Stanton replied. "Then whoever is trying to kill you might just succeed. Your body has been through a lot and needs rest."

Before Rodney could retort, John decided to intervene, and change the subject slightly.

"How's Carson?" he asked, glancing over at the cubicle where the Scot was lying. He noticed that there was quite a lot of activity going on.

"We're moving him back to his cell," Stanton said, sounding rather depressed by the thought.

"Who authorized it?" John asked, sharply.

"It was Dr Weir," Stanton replied, quickly, not wanting to get caught in some kind of tug-of-war over Carson. "Carson has improved considerably now. He just needed to sleep, it seems. And Dr Weir suggested the safest place for him was back in the cell."

"Wouldn't it be better to find the bad guy, rather than lock up the good guy just to keep him safe?" Rodney asked. "And last time I looked, I seemed to be the person he was after. I'm the one who was almost killed twice, or was it three times? So why don't you lock me up in a cell?"

"Don't tempt me," Stanton muttered under his breath. John tried to hide his grin, but luckily Rodney hadn't heard.

Just then Nurse Thomas arrived. "We're ready to move Dr Beckett, Sir," he said to Stanton. Stanton nodded and then hurried off with the nurse, to oversee the re-imprisonment of his boss.

Rodney yawned, loudly, which made John smile.

"I think you should take the Doc's advice," he said, patting Rodney's shoulder. "You look a little peaky."

"'Peaky'," Rodney said indignantly. "Is that a medical term?"

"Yep," John replied. "It's out of the 'Sheppard Book of Medical Phrases'."

"Not only do I have to content with quacks dispensing their voodoo medicine, I have to deal with amateurs too," Rodney replied with a sigh, which quickly became another yawn.

Thomas approached them again. "Dr Stanton said I was to make sure you rested, Dr McKay," Thomas said. Although his tone was even, his bulk made the words sound almost threatening. Rodney threw an anxious look at John, wanting support.

"Hey, don't look at me," John replied to the look. "I kinda agree with the medics here. You look pooped."

"Pooped!" Rodney replied, his voice rising into it's higher register. "Another wonderful medical term. I look pooped!"

"Done-in?" John suggested. "Dead-beat. Worn-out. Exhausted."

"And now he's become a walking thesaurus," Rodney said, muttering to himself.

Before John could retaliate, his comm-link sounded.

"Sorry guys," he said. "I've got a meeting I should have been at 10 minutes ago. Play nice!"

oOoOoOo

Carson lay back on the bunk, trying to work out how he felt. So much had happened in the last week or so, and his body had reached exhaustion point and beyond. The more he tried to make sense of things, the less sense they seemed to make.

He felt as if his brain was stuffed full of cotton wool. The more he tried to concentrate, to put the facts together, the less certain he became of anything.

He sighed deeply. At least Rodney seemed to believe him. It was strange that the person he was supposed to be trying to kill was the very person who seemed to believe most in his innocence.

There was something niggling at the back of Carson's mind. Something he knew was important; something that could save Rodney's life, and his own freedom. But he couldn't remember what it was. It was something elusive, floating just beyond his cognitive abilities. It was something that had happened as he'd been getting ready to come back to his cell. Something had happened to spark a memory, but he couldn't bring that memory into focus.

He concentrated for a moment, trying to force his tired brain to co-operate, but the more he tried to focus, the fuzzier the memory became. Exhausted, physically and mentally, the doctor fell into a deep and troubled sleep.

oOoOoOo

Carson wasn't the only one troubled. The eyes were troubled too. It had been a little too close, sabotaging Dr Beckett's computer. He'd almost been caught. And with McKay and Sheppard both working on the puzzle, he would have to watch his step even more carefully.

He couldn't delay his plan much longer. He needed to bring his revenge to full and sweet fruition. Now, before someone, somewhere realized what he was up to.

oOoOoOo

John sat in Elizabeth's office, with Ronon and Teyla standing at the side.

"How is Carson?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dr Stanton says he is improving," John said.

"You don't sound too happy about it," Ronon observed.

"While he was in the Infirmary, he was safe; he couldn't be accused of anything else, but now . . . ."

"Do you have any thoughts on what is going on?" Teyla asked. "Everyone we spoke to, seemed to see nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yep," Ronon agreed. "Whoever did this, is someone they're used to seeing, someone like Beckett."

"That's what worries me," Sheppard admitted. "The more I investigate, the more likely it seems to be that it was Beckett."

"What about his computer?" Elizabeth asked. "Rodney said it had been erased while he was in the Infirmary."

"Zelenka said there was a power surge," Ronon pointed out. "Coulda been a pure fluke."

"So," Elizabeth said. "We've had two attempts on Rodney's life. One of which was witnessed by someone who identified Carson. We've had a marine, last seen with Carson, who ended up dead, killed with Carson's scapel, and the only defense he had, has been erased."

"Doesn't sound good, does it?" John agreed.

"I need something more to work with, John," Elizabeth said. "I'm already under pressure to send Carson back to Earth to stand trial. And even if he's found innocent, it's unlikely they would let him come back here, after all of that."

"Just give me a little while longer," John said pleadingly. "I'll find something. I have to."


	13. Watching and Waiting

_**Just to let you know that I've almost finished writing this, and it looks like there will be 17 chapters. As I'll be without my computer from Wednesday, for a couple of weeks, I plan to finish posting this story over the next few days to save you having to hang on for another fortnight. Enjoy!**_

oOoOoOo

He watched, and waited. He knew the perfect moment would arrive. The moment when his revenge would be complete. His target would be destroyed, and he could continue living without the gnawing pain that ate away at his soul.

He knew what he was going to do. He had it planned to the last detail. All he needed now was the opportunity to put it into action. They were playing into his hands. Now the good doctor, Beckett, was back in his cell, and the other doctor, McKay, was still in the Infirmary.

The marines wouldn't be a problem. He knew how they thought, and how limited those thought processes were. Even Colonel Sheppard was co-operating. He wondered how the 'illustrious' military leader of Atlantis would feel once he realized he was playing right into his hands.

oOoOoOo

Carson was half asleep when he heard the noise. Sleep was elusive. When he slept, the nightmares arrived, and he couldn't face them just at the moment. He thought the noise was part of his dream at first, until he realized he wasn't asleep.

There was a thud, followed by a tapping sound, then another thud, then more tapping. He got up to his feet, and carefully approached the door, tensed, ready for whatever might happen. He half expected the door to burst open, and more accusations to be thrown at him.

As he reached the door, he realized there was a slight gap between the door and the doorframe. Someone had opened it, just slightly. Frowning, Carson carefully reached out and opened it slowly so he could see out of the crack.

The sight that met his eyes, made his heart sink. Slumped against the wall, eyes staring out lifelessly, were the two marines. Instinct took over, and he checked their pulses, even though it was obvious they were both dead. It took a moment for him to realize that he, too, might be in danger. But a quick inspection of the corridors around the cell told him they were empty of either a threat or assistance.

Carson wasn't sure what he should do next. The obvious thing was to go for help; to call on security to sort out the problem. But if he did that, then he was likely to become the number one suspect in another two murders. He sighed. But if he didn't call security, the case against him would be even stronger. He was caught between a rock and a hard place.

He had made up his mind to go in search of Colonel Sheppard. These poor lads needed to be treated with respect, and not left slumped in a cold corridor surrounded by the life's blood. But before he could put his plan into action, another thought struck him. It was a scary thought, a thought that made his nightmares seem insignificant.

The last time a marine had been killed, it had been accompanied by an attempt on Rodney's life. What if that was what was happening again. Whoever was doing this, seemed determined to kill Rodney and to make it seem like it was Carson who was doing it. What better way of doing that, than to kill the marines and free Carson, so he could be roaming the city at the time Rodney was being killed.

Fear lent his weary body speed, and he found himself racing through the corridors of Atlantis to the Infirmary. It was strange, but he didn't meet anyone on the way. No matter the time of day and night, Atlantis always had a buzz about it. But at that moment, the buzz must be elsewhere, because the part of the city he was racing through was very quiet.

He glanced at his watch, more out of habit than curiosity, but that gave him the reason the corridors were quiet. It was time for Feast Night. He usually looked forward to these monthly events, when the chefs on Atlantis prepared special meals for everyone. He and Rodney often ate them together, with Rodney usually missing all the nuances of the food because he was too busy explaining some experiment he was conducting.

Carson's smile of remembrance was quickly replaced by a frown, when he thought that Rodney might not get another opportunity to eat one of those meals. The thought made him move even faster, breaking into a run as he approached the Infirmary.

It was quiet, as he would expect on Feast Night. They tended to have a skeleton staff on so that as many as possible could enjoy the food. It boosted morale and generally helped the atmosphere in the city.

Carson slowed to a walk and then halted at the door, peering in before he actually entered. All was quiet. There was usually one doctor and a couple of nurses left on duty, but he couldn't see anyone. For a moment, he dreaded the thought that he might find more bodies in his own Infirmary. But as he pushed the door open, he realized that he could hear voices coming from one of the other rooms. It didn't look like the killer had got there yet.

His relief disappeared, however, when another sound reached his ears. It was the rasping, laboured breathing coming from the cubicle where Rodney had been resting. Carson hurried over there, drawing back the curtain carefully, with his good hand, just in case the attacker was still there. But the only person in the cubicle was Rodney. He was lying on his bed, gasping for air, clutching his throat. Beside the bed was a syringe. As Carson approached, he could smell the aroma of lemons. He picked up the syringe and sniffed. Yes, that was definitely where the smell was coming from. The attacker had found a different way of trying to kill Rodney.

Carson sprung into action, trying to save his friend. He dashed over to the supply area, where he always kept a supply of epi-pens. He grabbed one and ran over to Rodney, and quickly administered it. He waited for a moment, hoping that the ragged breathing would ease, but if anything it got worse.

Rodney was turning blue, his body starved of oxygen. Carson quickly grabbed what he needed to do an emergency tracheotomy, made clumsy by the cast on his right arm. The pain he felt seemed to disappear into the outer reaches of his mind, as he focused solely on saving his friend's life. For a moment, before he made the first incision, he felt his hand shake. It didn't help that he was having to do most of the work with his left hand, his weaker hand. But he took a deep breath. Rodney's life depended on him. He had to get rid of the nerves, the tension, and ignore the pain. He took another deep breath, and with a much steadier hand, cut into his friend's throat.

The procedure didn't take long, and a few minutes later, he took a step back, his hand dripping with blood. He listened desperately; waiting to hear if Rodney's breathing was easier. It seemed to be less laboured, more normal. He took a step forward, ready to check Rodney's pulse, to see if he needed to treat him further. But before he could do anything, the door of the Infirmary burst open.

Several marines filled the quiet of the Infirmary, their boots making a harsh sound on the uncarpeted floor. They had their guns raised, and they were aiming at Carson. Carson realized just how bad this looked. He was standing there, a scapel in his hand, Rodney's blood dripping from him, and Rodney lying there fighting for breath.

"It's not what you think," he said, taking a step towards the marines, trying to defend himself. "He was having trouble breathing, and I was easing his airways."

His words were having no affect on the military men. They advanced towards him, steadily and surely, their weapons not wavering in their aim. Carson's heart was in his mouth. He was scared that if he made one wrong move they would shoot. But if he didn't do or say something, he would end up being tried for murder.

"Look," he tried again. "I'm no' trying to kill the man. Please believe me. He needs urgent medical help. At least call the doctor."

Before he could go any further, two more armed men came hurtling into the Infirmary.

"He's killed two marines!" the first man cried out, swinging his gun in Carson's direction, and firing without warning.

Carson felt an excruciating pain in his shoulder. The world started to go blurry, and for a moment he thought he would faint. But then instinct took over. Without conscious thought, he turned and fled. He knew if he waited, more shots would follow that first one, and a dead man can't give any explanations.

He forced his battered body to run towards the emergency exit in the Infirmary. He'd always supposed it was to help escape in the event of the Wraith attacking the City, but now it proved useful to escape human hunters. The door could only be activated by those with the gene. And as Carson approached it, it opened helpfully for him. The men following, however, found it shut in their faces, and there was no means for them to open it. Carson could hear the door shudder as one of the marines hide it with his fist, in frustration.

Carson hurried down the corridors into the darkest parts of the City, where light never reached the dark corners. He was like a wounded animal, acting on instinct, and the need to hide. He just needed to escape from the accusations and any more dead bodies that might turn up. He fled from the part of the city he had called home, to hide in darkness of the unexplored regions.

As Carson ran, he didn't notice the eyes watching him. They were full of joy and anticipation. The plan had worked even better than he'd hoped. Now the stage was set for the ultimate act of revenge.


	14. The Hunt

John was approaching the Infirmary, Ronon at his shoulder, when he heard the shot ring out. The two men exchanged an anxious glance, and immediately quickened their pace.

The sight that greeted them when the arrived at the Infirmary looked more like a war zone than a hospital.

"What the hell just happened?" Sheppard demanded of the nearest marine.

"Dr Beckett was trying to kill Dr McKay, and we tried to stop him, Sir," the marine reported.

"He got away," one of the others added.

John's eyes immediately flew over to where Rodney was lying, his body frighteningly still. Jeff Stanton who had arrived, just after John and Ronon, hurried over to the scientist. He picked up the syringe and sniffed it, then turned quickly to Rodney, checking his throat and then his pulse.

"You idiots," he exclaimed, turning on the marines. "He wasn't trying to kill the man; he was trying to save his life."

Sheppard hurried over to him, Ronon again at his side.

"What happened, Doc?" he asked.

"It looks like someone tried to induce an anaphalytic reaction from Dr McKay, using lemon extract." He held up the syringe. "Someone, probably Carson, tried an epi-pen, but it must have been too late for that to have an effect; it only works if used quickly."

"And Rodney's throat?" Ronon asked.

"An emergency trachyotomy," Stanton replied. "Carson must have done it when he realized the epi-pen wasn't working."

"Sir," the lead marine said. "It looked to us as if the Doctor was cutting his throat, just like Martinez's throat was cut."

"Oh, he cut his throat all right," Stanton retorted sharply. "So that he could open an airway to Dr McKay's lungs to allow him to get air. And while I'm at it," Stanton continued. "Why is there a trail of blood leading to that doorway?"

John looked down in horror at the bright red trail. "You shot him?" he said, turning on the marines. Ronon also rounded on them, growling his displeasure.

"We thought he was trying to kill Dr McKay," the marine repeated.

"Save it for your court-martial," John responded sharply. "Can't you keep your marines on a tighter leash?" he asked Caldwell, who had just arrived with Elizabeth and Teyla.

"Is Rodney all right?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes immediately flying to the still figure of the scientist.

"He's going to be," Stanton replied, not looking up. "Thanks to Carson."

"And where is Carson?" Elizabeth asked, looking round, expecting to see the doctor.

"Some idiot here," John replied waving his hand in the direction of the marines, "decided to use him for target practice. They thought he was trying to kill Rodney," John added, quickly before one of the marines could repeat their mantra. "He ran away into the secret corridor."

"We tried to follow, Sir," one of the marines said to Caldwell. "But we couldn't get access to the corridor."

"You need the Ancient gene to open it," John said, approaching the door, which obligingly slide open.

"Where did you hit him?" he asked, swinging round sharply to confront the marines.

"In the shoulder, Sir," one of the marines replied swiftly.

"At least that is something to be grateful for," John muttered. "I want a medic with each team, as we make a detailed search of the city. Carson might be unconscious by now; he seems to be losing blood. Ronon, Teyla, you both take a team and search the corridors leading off from this room, he might not have got far."

"We've got another problem," Stanton said, slowly. All eyes swung towards him. He was holding up a name badge.

"It must have fallen off during a struggle, probably with Dr McKay," Stanton said, a worried look on his face.

As John read the name, his heart sank. "Oh Boy!"

oOoOoOo

Adrenaline took Carson down the corridor and along into the darkness of an unexplored part of the city. He could hear the marines still pounding on the door, and fear, plus a healthy dose of self-preservation took him onwards.

After running, or at least walking quickly, for 15 minutes, he stopped, trying to get his breath back. He could feel the blood from his shoulder wound dripping down his arm. Luckily, if you could call being shot lucky, the wound was in the same arm as his broken wrist, so at least he still had one good arm.

He managed to rip a piece off his shirt, and tie it round his arm, to try to stop the bleeding. He knew he was in a bad way, and couldn't go on much longer, but he didn't feel he had an alternative. Before long, they would send out search parties for him, possibly with the order to shoot to kill. He hoped that his friends would realize what had happened. But he knew he couldn't rely on that, and the new contingent of marines seemed to be of the 'shot first' mentality.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and started to move again. He didn't really have an idea of where he was, or where he was going to, but he knew he had to keep moving.

After a while, he could hear voices in the distance. Obviously the searches had started. He wished he could just turn himself in, but his recent attempt at explaining had resulted in being shot. If it was Sheppard, or Ronon, or especially Teyla, he felt he could rely on them. But none of the voices he heard belonged to them.

After about half an hour, he found himself at one of the piers at the outer reaches of the city. Carson always felt an affinity with the ocean. It reminded him of home, even though he was in another galaxy. But on this occasion, the ocean was not a friend. It meant he was trapped. He couldn't go any further and still remain within the relative safety of the city. And behind him, he could hear the voices of the various search parties approaching from different directions.

He wished he'd thought of grabbing a life signs detector. At least then he might have been able to avoid his pursuers. Maybe a gun would have seemed more useful, but Carson had never been very good at using one. He preferred talking, but then it had been trying to talk that got him shot.

oOoOoOo

"Nothing here," Ronon's voice said, into John comm-link.

"Teyla?"

"Nothing here, either, Colonel."

"Dammit, Carson," John muttered to himself. "Where the hell are you?"

Elizabeth gave him a worried look.

"Why isn't he just giving himself up?" she asked. "Do you think he's lying injured somewhere?"

"It's possible," John admitted. "But then we've not given him much reason to trust us so far. We've locked him, shot him, and now are chasing him round the city."

"You don't think he'll do something stupid?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm more worried about one of those testosterone junkies Caldwell brought with him doing something stupid. Clearing Carson's name doesn't appeal to me much if he's a corpse."

oOoOoOo

Carson turned the corner into another room. He was moving laterally now, from one room to another, trying to avoid detection. He slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, for a moment, his energy all but gone. He knew that he couldn't go on much longer, and also that if he didn't get medical help soon, he might not have to worry about accusations of attempted murder. Dead men don't worry about reputations.

A rustling in the corner made him open his eyes. At first he couldn't make out anything in the gloom. But then a shadowy figure emerged out of the darkness. It was a very large shadowy figure. For a moment Carson thought it was Ronon. But his relief evaporated when he realized it wasn't the Satedan, it was Nurse Thomas – and Nurse Thomas had a gun in his hand, which was pointed directly at Carson.

"At last, Dr Beckett," the other man said. "Now I have you exactly where I want you. It is time for you to suffer, just as I have suffered. And then I will grant you the pleasure of dying."


	15. Tell Me Why

"Colonel, I think we have found something!" Teyla's voice was a welcome relief to those waiting in the Infirmary.

"What is it?" John asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

"It's a bloody rag," Ronon answered. "Looks like the Doc patched himself up."

"Where abouts are you?" John asked, already heading towards the empty corridors. He followed Ronon's directions until he found the small group of people in one of the deserted rooms.

"Okay," John said as he took a good look around. "Ronon, are you able to track him from here?"

"It's tough," the big man replied. "Lotsa footprints."

Despite his words, the former Runner headed off to the northern edges of the city, with a steady determination. John and Teyla plus the small group of marines who accompanied them, all followed him. He would stop from time to time, checking the footprints in the dust that covered this area. Sometimes he would sniff the air, like an animal hunting it's prey.

The trial took them to the edge of the ocean, and a series of interconnecting rooms. Somewhere in the back of his mind, John made a mental note to investigate these rooms at a later date. They might make good living accommodation. But it was just a passing thought, as his focus was on finding Carson.

Elizabeth's voice sounded in his ear.

"John, we've not been able to find Thomas anywhere. His quarters have been stripped as if was ready to leave, and all his uniforms were neatly folded on his bed."

"Who saw him last?" John asked.

"Someone saw him in the Infirmary just before Rodney was attacked, but they didn't think anything of it. And there's another thing. We found traces of GHB in his quarters."

"How the hell did he get that?" John asked.

"Apparently, it's fairly easy to manufacture, if you know how. And he would know how."

"Any ideas why he's doing this?" John asked.

"Not yet," Elizabeth confirmed. "But SGC are sending us copies of all his records, to see if there is something that might help us. We don't even know if his target was Carson or Rodney."

"How is Rodney?" Teyla asked.

"He's recovering very well," Elizabeth replied, relief evident in her voice. "He's been awake and giving Stanton hell for letting this happen." There was a small laugh in Elizabeth's voice as she responded.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," John said. "We'll find Carson, and bring him home."

"Bring him home safely," she whispered in reply.

oOoOoOo

"Steady on, lad," Carson said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice, and out of the hand he held up towards Thomas. "I'm sure we can sort this out."

"It is already sorted, Dr Beckett," Thomas replied, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. "I have you exactly where I want you. I've worked for two years to get to this point, and now I'm here, there is nothing you can do or say to stop me."

In the background, Carson could hear the voices of other approaching. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. But Thomas seemed not to notice the imminent arrival; he was focused solely on Beckett.

"At least you can tell me why you did all this," Carson said, trying to buy himself more time.

"You don't remember her, do you?" Thomas asked, tears in his voice, though his eyes were dry. "She was just another statistic for you. But to me she was everything. My baby sister. I should have protected her. I couldn't be there for her. But you could have!"

Carson tried to focus his drifting mind on what Thomas was saying, but his words didn't make any sense.

"I'm sorry, lad," Carson said, a frown on his face. "I've not got a clue what you're talking about."

Just at that moment, Carson saw John slowly and silently enter the room, keeping to the shadows, Ronon and Teyla followed him.

"She was only 19," Thomas said. "When they raped her. They drugged her, and then they raped her. And you could have helped her. You could have said she had been drugged. And then they might have believed her story."

Carson vaguely remembered the case. It had been one of several rape cases where he'd had to testify. The problem was, by the time the victims came to the hospital, there was little that the rape kit could collect as evidence, and all traces of GHB would have left their system.

"I wished I could have helped her," Carson said, genuine grief in his voice. "But it was too late to get any evidence, lad. She'd washed it all away, trying to get the filth of their bodies out of her system."

"So it was her fault!" Thomas said, his voice becoming harsher, more strident.

"Of course not," Carson replied. "But, unfortunately, it meant there was no evidence against them."

"But you could have said there was," Thomas said. "You could see what she went through."

"Lying wouldn't have helped her," Carson said.

"It might have saved her life," Thomas said.

"And what does this do?" Carson asked.

"I want you to suffer the way she suffered," Thomas said. "At the trial she was made to feel it was her fault. She was made to feel the criminal. They blamed her. Said that she was asking for it."

"I'm sorry about that, Thomas," Carson said, trying to keep an eye on the others as they maneuvered themselves into a position to try to bring Thomas down.

"So I wanted you to feel guilty, to see the accusing stares of your friends. To feel the helplessness of not being able to prove your innocence."

"And what did Rodney have to do with it all?"

"He was just convenient," Thomas said, dismissing the scientist in a sentence. "If Lieutenant Cadman had been here, I would have used her. But since she wasn't, I used him. You seemed to be friends. I thought it would hurt more, to be accused of killing a friend."

Carson sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Laura was on Earth at that time, then immediately felt guilty because it meant that Rodney had suffered instead.

Taking a deep breath, the Scot tried to gather his thoughts. He was getting weaker by the minute, and his grasp on consciousness was weakening. Already the edges of the room were fuzzy, and indistinct.

"And what do you plan to do with me now?" he asked, hoping to get to the end of this confrontation while he was still on his feet.

"You will suffer the same fate as she did. You will die. And your friends will think you killed yourself, because you couldn't face what you had done. Then my revenge will be complete."

With that, he lifted his gun and pointed it at Carson. The Scot stood his ground, trying not to sway, trying to look Thomas in the eye, trying to convince him, without words not to do this. But the other man refused to meet his eyes.

"I have to do this!"

"No you don't!" Sheppard said, jumping out of the shadows. Ronon dove at the ex-marine from the other side. But neither man reached him before he'd fired the shot.


	16. Gun Shot

_**I have to say that TJ was particularly helpful in this chapter. She gave me a lot of good advice and helpful hints – so thank you, my friend.**_

Almost the instant the shot was fire, John and Ronon, and their combined attack, brought Thomas to the ground. The ex-marine rolled to the side, and got to his feet, his victim forgotten for the moment as he was forced to fight for his survival.

He and Ronon started to circle, like two animals, sizing each other up. Thomas charged Ronon, who side stepped him, and hit him on the back with his clenched fists.

Thomas grunted, and then scrambled to his feet, keeping low and going for Ronon's legs. The Satedan let himself fall, then pulled his opponent to the floor with him. John tried to get a shot in, but he was scared that in the dark and in the confined space, he would end up shooting Ronon. He winced as Thomas' elbow made contact with Ronon's nose, the Satedan unphased as he used the marine's position and momentum to flip him onto his back. Wrapping a muscular arm around Thomas neck, he slipped his other forearm behind the man's head, securing the nurse in a very effective choke hold. The marine tried to wriggle free but Ronon simply wrapped his legs around the helpless man's waist squeezing harder.

"Don't kill him," John said sharply, concerned Ronon might take things too far. Instead, the Satedan simply applied pressure to the man's windpipe until he passed out.

"He's not dead, yet," he said, in response to John's inquiring look. Ronon sounded quite mournful, as if he regretted not being allowed to kill the man. "I'll tie him up," he continued.

Teyla had ignored the fight, her focus on Carson. She had managed to push Carson to the side, so the shot had not found its intended target. The shot had been aimed at Carson's heart. Without her intervention the Scot would have been dead. But even as it was, she wasn't sure if he was going to make it.

Activating her comm-link, she called for immediate and emergency medical help.

She rolled Carson over as gently as she could. He had groaned, but his eyes were shut and his face was deathly pale. There was blood pouring from a wound to the side of his chest, and his breathing was labored.

"Carson," she said, speaking sharply to get his attention. "Can you hear me?"

She glanced up at John and he saw the fear in her eyes. He had rarely seen that look from her before. He knelt down beside the Scot, and put a hand on his good shoulder, shaking it slightly.

"Come on, Doc," he said. "You gotta wake up for us. We came all this way to find you. You can't give up on us now."

He was rewarded as Carson's eyes fluttered open, and focused with difficulty on his face.

"Colonel," he gasped. "Good . . . see you."

"Take it easy, Carson," John replied. "We'll get you safely back to that Infirmary of yours."

"R'ney?" he managed to ask.

"He is fine," Teyla said, brushing back a strand of the doctor's hair.

"Yeah, he was driving Stanton mad, the last we heard," John added, and was rewarded by a watery smile.

The doctor's eyes began to flutter shut again.

"Come on, Carson," John said. "Stay with us, don't give up on us yet. Look Doc, I'm sorry about all that business earlier. Locking you in cells, and those idiots shooting at you. If there had been anything I could've done to stop it, I woulda, you know that, right?"

"Yes," Carson said weakly. Teyla glanced up at John even more worried. The fact that John was apologizing before they got him back to the Infirmary worried her. Did he think the doctor wasn't going to make it that far?

Before she could ask her anxious question, the medical assistance she had asked for arrived, headed by Stanton. He gave Thomas a cursory glance before moving swiftly to the side of his fallen boss.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Thomas tried to shoot him," John replied.

"What is it with marines and target practice?" he said, exasperation very evident in his voice.

"Carson," he said, "can you hear me."

Again, the Scot's eyelids fluttered, but only the vaguest hint of the normally vibrant blue eyes could be seen.

"He was awake, briefly," Teyla told him.

"We'll get him back to the Infirmary immediately," Stanton said, gently pushing John out of the way.

"He's going to be all right, Doc? Isn't he?" the colonel asked, his expression.

"I can't promise anything, Colonel," the doctor responded. "He's been through a hell of a lot in these past few days, both physically and emotionally. But he's one of the strongest men I know, so if anyone can get through this, he can."

oOoOoOo

Rodney was awake, his eyes following all that was going on. He was still pale, but he looked a million times better than the last time John had seen him.

He waved his hand, weakly, to get John's attention.

John went over to him, and tried to answered the question he saw in his eyes.

"I'm not sure how Carson is," he said softly. "I'll check with Stanton."

As he went over to the hub of activity, he saw that Elizabeth had just arrived.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, echoing John's question.

"If you would all just give me space and let me do my job, he has a greater chance of survival," Stanton replied, his exasperation showing.

Elizabeth met John's gaze with a raise eyebrow.

They moved away, giving the medical staff some room, and went over to Rodney's bedside.

"How are you doing, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked, gently.

He gestured to his throat, and shrugged, wincing as he did so.

"That good, huh?" John said, grinning briefly.

At that moment, Ronon arrived in the Infirmary. "How's he doing?" he asked, nodding in the direction of Carson.

"Dr Stanton will let us know more about Carson once he's examined him," Elizabeth told the big man.

"Thomas?" Sheppard asked.

"In a cell, trying to wake up," Ronon responded, a self-satisfied look on his face.

"Is there something I should know?" Elizabeth asked.

"Nope," both John and Ronon responded in unison.

Before she could ask them any further awkward questions, a serious looking Stanton approached them. Behind him there was a flurry of activity around Carson.

"We're going to need to operate," Stanton said, sighing. "The latest bullet," his voice laced with irony, "pierced his lung."

"Is he going to be okay?" John asked, wanting some kind of definite answer.

"I can't answer that, I'm afraid," Stanton replied, looking directly at John as he did so. "His body has been severely weakened by all that he's been through. He's lost a lot of blood and he's hardly eaten in three days. All that makes the operation trickier than normal. But I can assure you, we will do everything we can to bring him through this. We care about him too."

"Thank you, Jeff," Elizabeth said, giving him a gentle smile.


	17. Forgiving

The next few days were strangely quiet on Atlantis. There was a muted atmosphere, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Or maybe it was just that Rodney still wasn't allowed to speak.

Elizabeth stood on her favourite balcony, gazing out onto the ocean. Night was approaching, and she always loved to watch the reflections of the city light up the dark water. A noise behind her brought her back from the edge of her wandering thoughts. It was John, standing in the doorway, his half-grin in place, waiting for an invitation to join her.

It struck Elizabeth that all her senior staff treated her time of reflection in this way. They would not intrude unless she gave them permission to. On this occasion, as on many others, she smiled her welcome to John.

"How are they?" she asked.

"Rodney can croak now," John said with a grin. "Though Stanton gives him a stare every times he tries. And he's still doing a good line in Rodney McKay Sign Language."

"And Carson?" Elizabeth asked.

"He's opened his eyes a couple of times," John said, his face more serious now. "But he doesn't seem to recognize anyone yet. It's Teyla and Ronon's shift just now."

They had been taking in turns to sit by Carson's bed so that he wouldn't be alone when he woke up. And the opportunity to apologise was something at the forefront of all their minds.

John and Elizabeth felt very guilty about the way they had treated Carson, and the lack of trust they had in their friend's integrity. And that's what made it worse – their guilt was not just that of leaders, but of friends too.

"Stanton reckons he'll wake up pretty soon," John continued.

oOoOoOo

"And Caldwell got the pleasure of Thomas' company back to Earth?" Rodney asked, the following day. His voice was now returning to something like normal. It was still a little husky, but the usual sarcasm was still very much intact.

"Yeah," John confirmed. "A one way ticket in the nice shiny brig of the Daedalus."

"Still belly-aching about justice," Ronon added.

"Belly-aching?" Rodney asked. "Has he been spending time with the marines again?"

"Pay-back for Beckett," Ronon replied cryptically.

Rodney looked at John questioningly.

"He decided the marines who shot Beckett needed extra training before they went back to Earth," John explained. "They also got a whole load of extra bruises too."

"Oh, good," Rodney replied. "Mind you," Rodney added. "They weren't the ones who locked Beckett up in the first place."

"And thank you for reminding me of that, Rodney," John replied, trying, unsuccessfully, not to look embarrassed.

"At least I tried to help him," Rodney continued, enjoying watching Sheppard squirm. "While you were virtually accusing him of trying to kill me."

"But we can't all be forgiving saints like you, Rodney," John retorted, his words dripping with irony.

"I am sure Carson will appreciate all your efforts in helping him," Teyla said, acting once again as peace-maker between the two men.

"And how many times did you lock him up?" Rodney asked, not yet ready to give up needling the military man.

"About half the number of times I'll lock you up," John retorted.

Teyla, at least, was grateful when Elizabeth arrived at this point, before the conversation could degenerate further.

"How are you feeling Rodney?" she asked.

"At least someone is concerned for my well-being," Rodney responded, with a side-long glance at John. "I believe I'm making a miraculous recovery," Rodney continued, looking very pleased with himself.

"He's certainly got his voice back," John noted sardonically.

"And I believe I told him to use it sparingly," Jeff Stanton added, joining the group. "I thought you'd like to know," he continued. "Carson is awake."

"How is he?" Elizabeth was the first to ask the question.

"He's lucid, and 'though he's in pain," Jeff said. "We've been able to control it."

"Can we see him?" both John and Elizabeth asked at once.

"One at a time," Jeff agreed.

"Ladies first," John said, giving Elizabeth a quirky grin, as he stepped aside to let her past.

When Elizabeth reached Carson's bed, the Scot had drifted off into a light sleep again. She didn't want to disturb him, but he seemed to sense her presence, and his blue eyes opened.

"Carson," she said softly, taking his hand. "It's good to have you back with us."

"Thanks," he replied, his voice sounded creaky from lack of use. He gave her gentle smile too.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Carson admitted. "And Thomas?"

"We sent him back to earth," Elizabeth replied. "He'll stand trial there."

"Poor lad," Carson said through a sigh. "Life didnae treat him too well."

"We didn't treat you too well, either," Elizabeth said ruefully.

"Aye," Carson agreed, softening the agreement with a dimpled smile. "But then you didnae have much choice. I was starting to believe I was trying to kill Rodney myself."

"Still," Elizabeth said. "We should have trusted you."

Carson's response was swallowed up in a yawn.

"We can discuss this later," Elizabeth said, patting his good arm.

oOoOoOo

The next time Carson woke, John was by his bedside.

"Can I get you something?" John asked, before Carson had a chance to say anything. "Ice cubes, jello, whisky?"

"Ice cubes, and some whisky to take the edge off them would be nice," Carson responded with a grin.

"I'm sorry Carson," John said, laying a hand on the Scot's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't find out about Thomas sooner, and that you ended up getting shot, twice."

"I know you tried, lad," Carson said, softly. "And Thomas had us all fooled for a wee while."

"I even asked for his help," John said, a note of self-disgust in his voice.

"And I employed him," Carson pointed out. "Why don't we just agree that we all made mistakes and leave it there?"

"I didn't," Rodney said, joining the other two men.

"Only because you were unconscious most of the time," John pointed out.

"And that was my fault, how?" the Canadian asked. "Oh, Carson," he added, suddenly remembering what he carried in his hand. "I brought you some blue jello."

Carson was touched. That was the ultimate in self-sacrifice for Rodney.

"Here, let me help you sit up," John said, helping the Scot ease his body up so he was sitting up enough to eat.

Carson let them fuss; it seemed to make them feel better, to feel they could atone for what happened earlier.

Ronon and Teyla arrived too, bearing fruit, his favourite, from the mainland.

Teyla gave him a gentle kiss when she arrived, and handed over the fruit.

"Why doesn't she give me a kiss when I'm ill?" Rodney asked, a slight whine to his voice.

"Because she wouldn't want to kiss you that often, McKay," John responded. Ronon snorted in response.

"Thank you, love," Carson replied, giving her a warm smile, which he widened to include Ronon.

Elizabeth arrived, just at that moment, also bearing a gift. She stopped, feeling slightly self-conscious, when she saw the group already with Carson.

"Seems my idea wasn't quite so original," she said with a self-deprecating smile.

"But your gift is just as welcome," Carson said, with a gentle smile, as she too leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Rodney sighed, and Ronon and Teyla exchange an amused glance.

"Thank you, all of you," Carson said. "These gifts have cheered me."

"I guess we all feel a little guilty about what we did," Elizabeth said.

"Rodney excepted, of course," John added, before Rodney could speak.

Carson smiled, as Rodney muttered something about ungrateful military types.

"Aye," Carson said. "The last week or so has been a wee bit strained. But I need to thank you too."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well," Carson continued. "Who was it that rescued me after I'd run off into the corridors." His eyes met John's, then Teyla's and then Ronon's and each nodded their acknowledgment.

"And Rodney worked on my computer so he could prove I wasn't guilty, even though everyone thought I'd tried to kill him."

Rodney looked around the group, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"And what about me?" Elizabeth asked, feeling conscious of the fact she had done little to help her CMO and friend.

"You acted as a leader should," Carson said gently. "And you should never feel guilty about that, lass."

"Even if it does mean I hurt a friend?" she asked.

"It was Thomas who caused this, Elizabeth, not you. He was a sad man, who had let life's tragedies make him bitter and twisted. He's the one to blame, not you, not John, not even Caldwell. And if it affects our friendship, he'd win again."

"Okay, Carson," Rodney said, feeling uncomfortable by the emotions running high. "I've told you before about reading those soppy self-help books."

He gave his friend a side-long glance. Carson grinned, knowing Rodney well enough to understand his unease at showing emotion.

"Well, you should just bloody well stop buying them for me," he retorted.

Everyone laughed. It was a healing laughter – as much of relief, that apologies had been given and accepted, as at the remark.

"Now that's been settled," Rodney added. "I think I'll go and have some lunch. There was still some blue jello left."


End file.
